


Bucky's Journal

by gr8escap



Series: Correspondence [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: The First Avenger, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Oral Sex, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Restraints, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sexual Content, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Switching, sam wilson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 116,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working through things on his own, Bucky takes to books, the internet, journaling and music to sort his focus and memories. there's no structure to the first chapter of journal entries, it's straight out of his journal. Organization comes later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I’ve been reading about focus and memories. I have a little trouble with both. // sometimes I think I’m someone and then this thing will tickle the back of my mind. I used to shut it out but apparently if I want to know who I am, I need to focus on it. It isn’t always pleasant. Then again, it isn’t always a nightmare either. // I’m writing my thoughts as an exercise – I read it in one of the books – they’re not organized here, or in my head. // I’ve been torn apart. I see a snapshot of what I should be but I’m missing so many pieces. There’s a golden head with shining blue eyes, smaller and larger – why can’t I focus on one or the other? The big one called me his friend. I know I got angry about it. It was just a mission, how dare he presume? I have no friends, but yet there’s that little guy… hair and eyes so similar, tough enough but he’s not that big. Steve. Steve’s my friend, but “Steve’s dead” That’s what they said. Showed me proof. “Bucky” – he said it with Steve’s voice. He told me something only Steve would know. “til the end of the line” an those bruises around similar eyes – I’d seen that before. I still don’t know what to think. They say little Steve ended up physically as big as he’d ever been in his weak an sick heart and somehow I should know that guy but that much focus hurts. //

More reading. I found some memories along with it. The factory. He was bigger. I was hurting, strapped down and drugged. Aching and frightened and his sunshine lightened the dark. Then the fucker said it only hurt a little? To be torn apart and remade into something 2 ½ times his original size? I lay there for days (?) in pain, fire searing through my veins? Scratch that soldier; you never would have wanted to know he felt pain – which is why he lied. He did lie, right? I ~~was~~ am a soldier, right? It was war? As in “all’s fair in ….” So all those things = fair. It was just war. I was fair. No, never that. I was a weapon, before **them** ; before him. Why didn’t he just stay put? I told him to stay put. I hope he does this time. I don’t want to see him. I know he lives – I pulled sunshine from the murky depths. I also buried it there, but I reconsidered. I saved sunshine for another day. Just not today. //

I’ve done some terrible things. They said it was in the name of freedom but I’ve been on the internet as much as into books and Hydra opposed freedom. They lied; a heartless lie – unlike Steve’s lie about his transformation. They were squeezing my heart. He was preserving it. They were good at it. He never was. He just cannot lie to save his life. I can. It bothers me some because I’d rather emulate sunshine than pain. // There’s a part of me that says that my actions today, the way I seek out those hydra bastards and mow them down are founded and fair, then a part wonders, what would **he** do? That fair-haired paragon of moral virtue… then I hear he’s doing exactly that – mowing them down – and I feel… good. Calm. I wonder, though, is he broken like me? Has his virtue escaped him? Are we both monsters or is it just me? //

On that day – when I nearly buried the sunshine in the river, I killed men. I nearly killed one who was protecting Steve – Bird…. Wings…. He flew, he fell, and he landed. We all fell that day. He landed on his feet. I saw him today. It’s the closest they’ve come. I was able to elude him – I can’t see them. Not yet. But I think I might want to someday. They’re close – I’d better pack up. Hydra is dwindling – we’re bound to run into each other. I wish they would leave it for me. It’s not his damn fight. Not that that ever stopped him before. //

I’m not sure I deserve the gifts my recent memory discoveries have been giving me. They’re all tied to that punk. I dream them. I tune out and they come to me. I’d welcome nightmares. I know I deserve those. //

I read constantly when I’m not rooting out hydra scum. I read that therapy can help. I don’t know about that. Where I’m from, you keep your shit to yourself… but, the reading has been helping. Writing this crap down has been helping. If the book is right? Odd jobs to keep a roof over my head and keep me fed won’t support some “shrink”. I don’t know if I like that term. My head’s been messed with enough – letting – **inviting** someone in? What could be worse? **That.** That is what is worse. I never put it in words before but here goes: I felt the ice. It tore into me. I was listening to some music – what I don’t know – with my headphones when the sensation overtook me. I tore them out so that the zap wouldn’t get in my brain again. The clamping sensation didn’t stop. I froze and fell. It was cryo all over, wipe and freeze. I panicked because I thought I’d escaped. I was set free by the falling sunshine. I was on my way to me and I was captured again. Yet after the freeze stopped, there I was on my knees in the middle of the sidewalk. Headphones at my feet; the terror had been real; I was bound, in pain and bracing for hell and then I was weeping and exhausted in a puddle alone. I made a call. It wasn’t suicide prevention I needed but that was the number on the pole. I told them, “I’m not trying to kill myself, I really ain’t. I’m a veteran” I heard my voice croak. It was a crying man’s voice “I need help”. I got a number. I dialed. You know who was on the other end of the line? The bird-man. I almost hung up when I placed his voice in the right memory. //

I looked at this shit so far. “Sam” had asked if I reread anything I’d written down. Honestly I hadn’t… until now. I just did. I have to be honest now. Sunshine is Steve. I do know this. It just feels less painful to avoid his name. Bird-man is Sam. I also fully understand this but I think it’s just funnier. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to. He just thinks I’m some traumatized vet, which I am, so my phone therapy isn’t being jeopardized at all by lies. I tell the truth as I’m ready to do so, with his permission, I might add. Do I feel guilty? No. I’ve worse things assigned to that emotion.


	2. Organizing Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> learning to organize thoughts/journal entries

I’ve written that I struggle with focus. That’s not a whole truth; I can have sharp, precise control over my focus. It’s a gift from hydra. A gift that I’m using against them.

They are my mission.

I’ve been running them to ground – I’ve been using Rogers. He wants to take them on? I’ll use him like a weapon. That’s disturbing at times, but I don’t allow myself to think too hard about it. It messes with the mission. He’s tracking them; I know how to send information without being tracked. I’ll get him the info and he’ll never know he didn’t find it himself. Of course the circle is closing in and that impacts the inevitability of Rogers running me to ground too.

I’ve been able to reign in some of my chaotic thoughts and my new writing exercise – self assigned (I only talk to the bird-man when things go to shit) I’m taking control – my new exercise is to corral the thoughts into cohesive segments. It’s not easy, things I think I need to know tickle the edges of my focus. My reclaimed table (people toss some pretty amazing shit – what ever happened to fixing shit when it broke and not spending money on unnecessary things) is cluttered with brightly colored squares of sticky notes. Those are my random thoughts lining up for their turn at bat in the “Who the Hell is Bucky – Newly Organized Revelation Journal”.

I kind of like this crazy century, wasteful tendencies aside of course, Information about practically everything ready to be absorbed. I spend hours at the library using the computers there. I have lists of various things I **need** to find and many more that I **want** to find. My current needs are: A- hydra related. Those are bright pink annoying sticky notes of memories and possible glimpses of fact vs. my own twisted fiction. I gather them together when I head for the library and look for anything that might be useful. B- I need my own computer. I’m pretty sure I can build my own and scrounging parts is easier than it should be. I am glad for the ease. I’ve practically memorized what I need and how I need to assemble it, yet remembering my folks and sister are so hard. Another gift from hydra, I guess. Fuckers.


	3. The Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> within a week, Bucky's had to make calls for support to Sam three times.

I got my computer built. It’s a great composite of parts sourced by trade, small exchanges of cash and reclamation. I do a lot of that (see my earlier note about people tossing shit) my little room is coming together well, I’m still amazed.

I had a few calls to the bird-man too. It’s been both a productive and shitty week.

Started out crappy when a fire broke out a building over, I hadn’t noticed.  I was building my computer. When I heard sirens it didn’t faze me, it’s the city. It’s what happens, but I wasn’t ready for them to get so close. The noise translated funny in my ears, my head took a trip, catapulted by the explosion in the belly of the building as the sirens were screaming. The broiler blew, what world do I live I where some broken soldier from another century can build a computer from parts, yet families are still relying on broilers for heat? I didn’t know that’s what had me scrambling for weapons and fleeing to the roof. I mean, I guess that’s how it happened, because when the fire had been doused and the air stank like a battlefield after rain, I saw the dregs of the crew reeling in their hoses and ladders and realized I was perched on the roof, armed to the teeth with nothing to do but try to stop shaking. I zoned out so far I don’t even know where I went.

I called. I lied. I couldn’t tell him about the fire, they’d have figured out where I am. C’mon, google “building fire – broiler explosion” and my choice to stay away would be void. They’d be on my doorstep before you could blink. So I told him that I wasn’t sure if it was a backfire or a gunshot that set me off. The lie, I think it was a pretty good one.

The next time I needed to call, I was on a run to take out a hideout of some underground hydra scientists. You see where this is going? I didn’t at the time. I was a cocky SOB going in. Oh God, I almost didn’t make it out.

It was this old building off the main roads, I think it had been a school and then a hospital or asylum. It was dark and dank, the tile of the floors was chipped and the walls were graffiti covered – innocuous stuff at the entrance, tags, names, words, profanity and attempts at vulgarity graduated to lewd images and phrases. I almost laughed at them but I had a job to do.

As I moved further down the halls, the walls changed, the floor tiles were in good repair, there were signs on the walls and lighted access pads. I didn’t see anything too high tech, just key-card access. I’ve liberated a few of those from hydra laborers and researchers who have no further need of them. Some had been deactivated; others have flown under the radar. I try to remember to destroy the inactive ones and I’m trying to hack into the system to keep better track of the cards activity before finding out one way or another mid-mission.

It goes against my programming (Bucky’s, not the soldier’s – we’ll call that shit “conditioning” – yes I  **can**  actually casually refer to the pieces of me in the third person) to stand there wasting time. It’s like having a large ring full of keys and needing to find a certain one in the dark, in silence. It’s a fucking miserable waste of time and a certain safety hazard. So when I figured out which door I needed to go through (these two are dark under the door; no one in there; light seeping out from this one but it’s undisturbed, oh look (!) there’s light and shadow ghosting under that one, there’s someone in there), I could enter without trouble, before I unleashed trouble. I was fairly confident that the key cards I had with me were active. I’d just recently acquired them – they hadn’t had time to cool from their most recent use. Yes – their previous owners were dead. I can only dance around that so much before I call a “fuck you, Barnes”.

I was a jackass to be so confident. The first key card was  **not**  active. The error sound was small but “oh shit”. I wanted to close my eyes and say a prayer or do something meaningful out of hope… but I waited, eyes wide open – ears trained on the muffled sounds inside. The buffered footsteps were headed to the door. I figured the sound was muted by those shoe-covers. I stilled. I was at the wall beside the door with my back pressed up against the wall, my heart was pounding, I was ready… and then a bizarre déjà vu hit, it wasn’t the typical flashback kind of thing that I’m getting used to. It was a “normal” kind of “I’ve felt this kind of thing before” – I was ready to die, I looked at the opening door expecting to see the costume and the man who saved me on the train when I was out of ammo. That hesitation nearly got me trapped and strapped into that monster of a chair again because the face at the door  **was**  familiar but was  **not**  welcomed. It was one of the technicians who had called me his “job” at one time. He grinned at me, I can’t yet think what might have been turning around in  **his**  mind but my mind deserted me for a few fright filled moments. I heard what I think was him crowing about my “return”. I think he figured I was making my way “back”. One of these days I might be able to use that as a way in but I can’t do that just yet. As he led me into the room something screamed at me. It was in my head but it was clear as I’m writing this. “Bucky!!” Horrible and tortured just as I remember it, but I wasn’t falling this time and he wasn’t there, but it caught me. He caught me in some strange way and I was able to react as I should have.

He never saw it coming. I took his life, his key card and all of his files, including schematics and tools that I might need to do my own repairs on my arm. It was a good ending as I took out the rest of the floor and made my way to the broiler room. You see, I have a thing for irony, so I rigged it to blow.

Out in the overgrown courtyard, I sank to my knees, waiting for the blast and I felt the shudder and the cold taking root. I scrambled for the phone and dialed. Before he answered, I thought for a giddy moment “what would he think of the picture I put as his contact? Woody Woodpecker, because just like not calling him by name is funny, that shit is funny. The broiler blew just before he answered and I cried manly tears of fear and wanting redemption. I told him all about my terror of getting dragged back into hell without giving specifics, not wanting to be forced to forfeit my choice. He told me that I needed to start using more personal terms – be more forthcoming so I could “deal easier”. “No rush, man. Just work on it.”

Even as I sat there constructing true lies and deception so that I could “deal” but not own up to a thousand truths, he was steady and warm and trying to guide me to a lighter place. He knew I was blocking so much but he didn’t judge. I wondered “what if he knew?” How would things work then? He can’t tell anyone, right? He’s essentially my therapist and has said he wouldn’t/couldn’t share anything I said to him. So I know that even if it put him in a bad spot, Rogers wouldn’t find out. But if the bird man knew I was the man he spends hours trying to find – how would that impact his ability to help me? I would still need help – I don’t think I can call another number – unless shit really gets bad. He probably wouldn’t think he could help me, knowing how many more lies I’ve told him than truths.

Trust. He’s giving it to me but I can’t. I don’t know how to reach “trust”. It might as well be tangible, like a plate on a table, pulled across as I reach for it.

The fire crews took longer to arrive than my phone call lasted so I was able to take cover inside the tree line by the time they got there. I watched from a stupidly close distance – I could feel the heat of the flames melting that icy feeling in my bones that seems to take forever to recede following one of these episodes. I hovered a little close a little long but leaving felt far more dangerous than staying. My hold on – I don’t want to say “reality” what is the word I’m looking for? Not “normality” either. For me odd and upside down  **are**  normal, but the normal I’ve adjusted to felt precariously balanced. I didn’t feel like making another phone call this soon so I stayed within the reach of the heat of the flames until I could move without considering each step.

The third and hopefully final call for this week at least was in the wee hours of the morning just the other day. I know I woke the bird, what’s up? Don’t you know the early bird gets the worm? No – I did  **not**  say that to him, of course he doesn’t know that I know him. I’ve never called him by name – I don’t even remember if he ever told me.

I’d fallen asleep at the table on the computer; I kind of do that pretty often. I drifted into a dream.

I kept seeing the same face, a man with soft features, light eyes and a reluctant smile. The image was interrupted by ready laughter that didn’t fit the smile. Again, soft cheeks, smooth shaven jaw, pale eyes – uncertain – and that unwilling smile, like he was uncomfortable with my scrutiny. Behind me was hearty laughter, a song and an uncomfortable feeling. These things kept swirling in my head, I tried to assign the face – it was  **not**  sunshine, no matter how hard I tried to force the features, they didn’t fit. The pale eyes teared up at the laughter. I couldn’t look away, every time I tried, he pleaded with me through those teary pale eyes. The final time his face swirled through the dream, he had blood on his hands. My hands. Flesh and flesh; then metal and flesh.

I can’t understand!” I told the phone when he picked up. “It was me but I didn’t recognize the face in the mirror.” He reminded me that I hadn’t yet told him what had happened so I explained the dream… leaving out the sunshine.

“Sometimes this happens. I won’t tell you it’s not terrible, it can be. It’s tough to reconcile who you were, what you had to do with the person you knew and the person you became. What is important is accepting who you are now. Acknowledging the good you can do today and tomorrow.”

“I rarely recognize the face in the mirror” I heard myself moan.

“How is the journal keeping? Do you recognize the man in the words?”

“Sometimes, mostly – yeah. I think I’m finding my voice."

“You may never be willing to share, but if you ever feel like it, I’d be willing to look them over.”

“Maybe.” I heard what I thought was my voice say, but it couldn’t have been me. No one is ever reading this shit.

“How are you feeling about the dream now that you’ve told me about it?”

“Confused. I was sure it was someone else – it felt like someone else, unable to accept something even before the blood. His face, my face, I was young. It was before combat. What war was he fighting? He was practicing a smile but wasn’t feeling it. He was ready to weep at the thought of something. Music was there; was it the song? Or the laughter? It was me, but I just can’t figure it out.”

“Not necessary right now. It may work itself out in future dreams, even peaceful ones. It doesn’t matter, because you can call me about it any time. I’m expecting you to now. If you recognize the song or whose laughter you heard, maybe pieces will come together. Could you tell if it was your laugh or the laugh of someone else?”

“They’d both be pretty foreign to me. I thought it was someone else’s laugh but I was wrong when I thought it was someone else’s face.”

The more I think of it since the night and the call, the more I think it was my laugh, carefree and completely removed from the pain in the eyes. I feel like maybe it was a reflection in a mirror or several times that, many days of staring in a mirror, practicing a smile that didn’t reach the eyes. These are theories only, because I haven’t registered them in my memories. Theories that are becoming more comfortable.


	4. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> musical research for therapy and growth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40's slang used from this link: http://www.girlinthejitterbugdress.com/1940s-slang/

I was thinking about something today when I noticed the quiet in my room. It’s peaceful sometimes, but there’s a hum, or a buzz that is missing. Home seems like it would be louder, of course. I can’t get into television. It’s too distracting. I am surprised, though, with television’s enduring prevalence that radio is still around. It used to be the uniting force – I suppose television kind of has that role now. Radio seems to be more of an intimate thing now, a one-on-one experience on a normal commute to and from the office.

I’m also amazed and kind of relieved that I can get radio broadcasts on my computer. I don’t have a lot of space for things so this works for me.

I think I’m going to try something. I’m going to listen to a decade of music at a time – say for a month – until I’ve caught up. I’ll start with ‘old home week’ this month.

* * *

This music by the decades idea may have been the biggest mistake I’ve made this week. Some mistakes are worth making though.

I started off slow with 40’s music on YouTube. I turned on 30 greatest songs and made a list from those to start with. I found similar artists and built on from there.

With the room dark except the glow of my computer, I played the playlist. I was sitting over in the corner on the floor, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, trying not to think too hard about how some of this really should be familiar to me.

I listened to the songs, their melody and lyrics. Hearing something for the first time, when you’re only focused on that one thing, is an odd feeling. “Do I like this?” “What do or don’t I like about this?” I’ve been giving each song its due, letting it play through even if my first instinct is dislike. I think it’s all part of this self-assigned exercise.

As I settled into the music and the darkness, I envisioned twirling skirts, floral perfume, pouty red lips and bouncing curls. I felt the urge to dance the Lindy at one point. I could knock it out, but could never seem to get Steve out onto the dance floor.

> “C’mon Steve, I tell ya, Bettys a real rug-cutter! She could show ya how to swing a wing!”
> 
> “You’re off the cob, Buck. Lay off.”
> 
> “Fine, lay an egg.” I ruffled his golden hair.

Certain jazz tunes brought those blue peepers and that floppy hair to mind. Steve in the apartment, soaking up all of the morning sunlight from the one little window, trying to sketch before the room turned yellow from the filtered light higher in the sky. The percolator bubbled on the stove to serve a cup before I headed out for work. He’d sit in his trousers and undershirt, his feet bare.

> “There’s a draft ya fat-head. You get sick this time and I’ll let ya croak.”
> 
> "Don’t you have work to get off to? Take a powder.”

I found and took a shine to “Buck Jumpin’” by Fats Waller. I haven’t made any ready connection to it and my past with it, but the title gave me a pretty good feeling. I’d like to think I got a good ribbing (or two) from Steve about it.

I’m still in the middle of my month of 40’s hits. I think this was a good mistake, even if the memories I get about that sharp tongued little guy are almost as razor sharp. These are some of the clearest memories I’ve connected with.

Question: Why doesn’t Rogers have a blog? I could anon request his playlist. :)


	5. By Any Means Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's haunting memories of some early Cold War era missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death and negative connotations towards homosexuality in story context.

I wasn’t prepared for my 50’s music reactions. I have more faulty memories as the asset than I do as Bucky. They’re both me now which is why I stay away from Rogers. He wants “Bucky” and I’m something different now. I am keeping the name though. I had thought about James or some diminutive version and none seemed to “fit”. Maybe it’s because he named me.

I was particularly useful in the 50’s since the USA was worried about communism and the people I was tethered to were keen to take advantage of the hysteria. One song on this section of my journey hit me and dragged me back to an underground job in Havana at the Tropicana. It was a mecca for stars, starlets and socialites.

My mission? A senator’s son. I was to “by any means necessary, expose his lifestyle to the world and end his life.” I guess, looking back on things now, out of curiosity, the job was to discredit a senator and intimidate him to bend to hydra’s will.

I approached the man – I have to say, I was not typically engaged in this sort of mission, but I had been given the mission parameters and I was deployed. The man was young and dressed elegantly. My suit was as fine as his, though it felt foreign to me, I remember the sensation. I never mentioned it to my handlers – one of a handful of times I can recall withholding personal observations. This boy’s dark hair was immaculate, his smile lit his warm eyes and was engaging and inviting. “Haven’t seen you around here before.” He said.

“No. First time on the island.” An actual truth.

“Privilege. Name’s Ronald Orton.” After shaking his hand, he saw my left gloved one. “Hmm., he moistened his lips, “guess you’re a warm-hearted one. You know what they say, Cold hands, warm heart.”

“Haven’t heard that one before.” I gave what was a practiced flirty smile. “but could be true.” Then I added, “War injury, actually.”

“Please,” he stammered, he’d gone a little green. He felt shame; he’d gotten out of serving – out of the war – with the help of his father’s friends. More from the intel I’d been given "Accept my apologies". I played along with him and his friends and as the place was a pleasure dome, we all made haste to his suite nearby without so much as a look from anyone.

Mission: Any means necessary, expose and terminate.

I flirted with, photographed laughed with and kissed each boy there. I encouraged a lively party fueled by sex and then once there was proof everywhere of a gentle boy’s “socially embarrassing and morally disgraceful” “lifestyle”. I ended the lives of 3 kind boys.

Mission: Accomplished.

Another time on a similarly unlikely mission – I was later deemed more suited to one-off assassination missions – this was at a rather intimate club in a basement in London. A young woman who could impact the “good works” of hydra enjoyed unwinding at her regular “Saturday night rave”.

She was beautiful! I saw her on the dancefloor dressed provocatively and incredibly sultry in all black. Her feet were bare and her dark hair tumbled over her shoulder. I sidled up to her, after kicking off my own shoes beside a nearby table. I joined her undulating moves, the two of us darkly dressed in the low light; I tipped her head just so, to put a soft teasing kiss at her throat. She gazed at me with a smoky expression and we danced through the song “Many a Tear Have to Fall”.

I escorted her from the dancefloor with another kiss and left her lying dead near the rear exit.

Mission accomplished.

This has been a horrible month for music memories. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy some of the music. I did enjoy many Rock and Roll hits but the jazz, that’s not quite so enjoyable any more.

I was surprised to find a 1946 tune while I was on my week of Rat Pack hits. It gave me a little break from the revelations of the horrors I’ve committed. Dean Martin’s “I Got the Sun in the Morning” has a chorus that takes me back to years before the song was recorded:

_Sunshine gives me a lovely day_  
_Moonlight gives me the milky way_  
_Got no checkbook got no bank_  
_Still I'd like to express my thanks_  
_I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night_

Steve really was sunshine.

 – I just finished a call:

“Say – I need to talk.”

“Hey, it’s been a while, you holding up ok man?”

“Some days.”

“Sometimes that’s the best we can do.”

“I guess.”

“Not good enough, what’s up?”

“I’ve done some terrible things.”

“That’s why we’re here. That’s why I take calls. I’ve been there, seen things, done things. I know lots of soldiers who say the same. Do you want to talk about the “things” specifically?”

“God No!” I was sobbing, “God Yes!” I added.

“Take your time, man.” Muffled; I heard _“Steve, I have to take this – can we….?” – “Sure Sam, absolutely, any time.”_

Oh god! He was there. I wanted to call out to him! I desperately wanted to hang up! I managed to choke out, “Listen, if this is a bad time…”

“No! No, not at all. I don’t need him running me into the ground today. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

SHIT! That was the most personal information about him that he’d ever let on to. “So, that “Steve”, is that your boyfriend? Or should I not ask?”

He laughed, deep and joyful, my heart clenched. What would it feel like to laugh so readily? “No, he’s just a ridiculously competitive friend and all around pain in the ass.”

“Annoying.”

He laughed again, “So, soldier, about you?”

Back to that, then… “I killed innocent people.”


	6. What a Man's Word is Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The dawning of a new world for Bucky. How he managed to call Sam to ask for a face-to-face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of this work is a companion to Sam's Point of View: [Chapter 3: Rooting for "Jim"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4982776/chapters/11589721) and shares dialog, the characters' reactions are different

My revelation to Sam (I can’t be funny right now) threw us both. He had paused before asking anything. He’d waited a painful amount of time. I waited for a click. He waited for me to continue. Neither happened.

“Soldier, you don’t have to tell me anything, but if or when you do, it’s just you and me. Casualties of war are some of the rougher ground we have to navigate. That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

“I’m –“ I was losing ground, “I’m not sure it’s the same thing.” I finally managed.

“I have only one question for you,” he’d adopted a strict military command voice, “were you following orders?”

“I was, sir.”

“Then it’s the same thing.”

“Does it change when the orders are coming from the wrong people?”

“Let’s not let it get too complicated just now. Not until you’re really ready to go into it.”

“I want to be.” I meant it, “It’s just so complicated already and I can’t. The trauma, to my head, it’s really made a mess of my memories. The things that I did – I just don’t know the extent of what I did.”

“Let’s deal with them one memory at a time. I will ask again if you’ve thought about a formal setting with a therapist.”

“I can’t. Not right now. If you want me to stop calling you I under—“

“Just back it right up soldier. I’ve told you many times, I’m here to hear it all. I’ll help you any and every way I can. If the time comes that you can speak to someone, I’ll be there to introduce you and to talk afterward if you’d like.”

“I …. Yeah ….. I; Thanks Sam” OH SHIT. PLEASE tell me Rogers called him Sam so I don’t have to do this now…

“That’s what I’m here for. Now, since that pain in the ass gave you my name, do you have anything you’d rather I call you besides “hey man” or “soldier”?

“Yeah. Ok. Jim” hate that name. It’s safe though and I’m not ready for exposure.

“Now, Jim, do you want to talk about it? or are you ok to talk about it yet?”

I know how ridiculous it is to have to dance around the whole truth but I don’t have what is needed from me. I don’t have all the answers and I can’t be what Rogers expects. Sometimes that guy is ready to burn down the city to get what he wants and to be honest, I’m not sure he’ll ever get that. He needs to want something else.

As all of this created another pause, where I’m sure he thought I was going to abort, I dared to answer. “They were targeted just because of who they knew and I ended their lives to send messages. They were just kids – partying.” Other than writing it down mere days ago, this was my first time saying this aloud and I was weeping again. “I can’t do this. I – I can’t.”

“Jim –“ the military command back in his voice, “I’m with you.” His voice softened, “you can do anything. You’re here. You’re getting it out. It’s a big step.”

“I don’t know if I can do it this way.”

“We’ll do it any way you need to. Are you ready for a face to face? I can come to you, or”

“No. Not yet. Let me let you go for now, I’ll call back – I will – but this, I think this was too much – enough for just now.”

“Can you talk to me for a few more minutes, Jim, about just anything? How is the computer?” He was worried, I could tell, so I settled on the floor in the corner – my corner – it’s a reassuring position right here. Having two walls at my back, the whole room in my sights, able to see any threat, “I have finished it. You know, I have just a few pieces of furniture. Things I could get free to cheap and fix up.”

“Do you have what you need?” (Who IS this guy?)

“Yeah. Is it weird that I sit on the floor when I’m not at the computer/table? I sit in the corner of the room.”

“So there’s nothing beneath or behind you with a full view of the room?”

“How?” (Seriously who IS THIS GUY?)

“I talk to a **lot** of soldiers, Jim. Is the computer chair at the other wall?”

“Yes. Not weird then…”

“To some. Not to me.”

“What would make you stop taking my calls?”

“If, at any point after this call, you do anything to anyone I love. You know my friend’s name and mine and you have my number. I don’t doubt your abilities based on the few things you’ve confided in me, so my life remains unscarred following this talk and we’re good.”

“You’re saying you do not care about anything I’ve done before this, your pact to me? You have my word – for what it might be worth to you.”

“Your word is what you make it worth. You tell me your word is golden, I hold you to it.”

I don’t know, even now – writing this – how to deal with such openness. I don’t deserve that level of trust. Just another reason seeing Rogers is off the table for now. He’s blind. Blind faith and blind trust and I’d kill him with no weapon, just one truth in the right place and time and it would be over. I don’t want over. I want… Well, that’s complicated.

 

* * *

 

The music from the sixties really confused me at first. I had to really do some research, The growth of rock and roll branched into some very unusual directions. The early stuff seems to be a lot like late fifties – it’s like the era is assigned to the decade but the overlap is decidedly indiscernible. The multi-directional music turn of the sixties also drove me in its different directions.

I get too lost in my own thoughts (taking me to a place I fear I will never come out of) when I play more purely psychedelic music. I was again reminded of even more unpleasant acts committed by an imposter hippie assassin. I’m not going down that road again. I had enough trouble reliving it-I can’t write it down at this point. It was a commune infiltration and it was the only other time hydra tried to use me “under cover” instead of as an active operative. I suppose this is part of what tarnishes the music for me. It’s also a very dangerous place for me to spend too much time.

I like the dirtier, more raucous rock toward the end of the decade; it really is good for me. I experienced many very good days when I play-listed things that didn’t have the intensely hypnotic melodies that psychedelic music from many of the same artists are composed of.

I can’t even begin to listen to the melancholy country music of the era, it’s not bad, it’s just too “woe is me” for me as I discover things about myself, and live the life of a loner. I’ve got enough of that without adding to it emotionally.

I can’t believe how many times while listening to these playlists I’ve run through that trust conversation. I can’t even be funny about him now. I first referred to him as Sam due to the severity of the situation and now he’s just “Sam” out of pure respect. That respect has **almost** driven me to the phone on multiple occasions. It would really be nice to reach out to someone on a more personal level. I believe him when he says that I’m a soldier he’s given his trust to. I can’t keep lying in the face of it. Each time I reach for the phone, though, I pull back again. I wanted to have a handle on this whole thing before doing the inevitable but maybe the inevitable is what I need to do just to be able to manage it.

It’s so complicated. Sometimes I wonder if complicated is “worth it.”

Oh, but then the terrors… “you know you don’t ever want to go back to what caused those.” Complicated has to be the right direction.

 

* * *

 

Well, I’ve gone and done it. I made the second most difficult call I can remember. I called Sam.

“You’re not going to like a lot of what I have to say.” I said in a rush as he answered with his usual smiling voice.

“Ok.” He hesitated.

“Just let me say it all. You can decide what to do with it after. It’s **all** just between you and me, right?” My words weren’t quite as run together this time.

Yes. Go ahead, I’m listening. I’ve got your six.”

“I need to meet with you. I can’t come there and I’m not sure yet that you coming to my place is a good idea. Can you come to New York City?” Still talking too fast. I took a deep breath waiting for his answer.

“Yes, whatever you need.”

“ _He_ can’t know.” I was panicking.

“Who, Jim?”

“Rogers. – Uh, Steve.” _SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!_   “Shit! Sam, my name is James Barnes, Sergeant. He calls me Bucky and I might have tried to kill you both.” After my rank, it was a running sentence. I was screwed.

“Oh... Kay...” This was it. This would be **the** dropped call. “Jim. This changes nothing.”

I was sure he said it “changes everything” and my soul dropped, if I still have one.

“Jim. Are you still with me? Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Are you serious? I mean…”

“I told you, it changes nothing. Don’t worry about anything, just tell me where to be. It’ll be just me, you have my word. Is my word currency, Jim?”

“Unless he’s around, can you stop with “Jim”? Or would that make it difficult for you? I hate “Jim”.”

“Seriously? You want me to call you “Bucky”?” if the situation weren’t so stressful, I could imagine laughing at his astonishment.

“It’s my name, Sam. I chose to keep it. So yes, **if** we’re not in a compromised situation, use my name, please.”

“I can do that. I’m all for choice; and choosing how you want to be called is extremely important. Your sense of self is the most important thing anyone can have.”

“I didn’t know it was you when I called that first time. Not until I recognized your voice. I almost hung up but something kept me on the line.” I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

“You didn’t know if you could make that call a third time.” He said confidently. I admire his confidence.

We arranged to meet at a coffee shop I like that’s not far from my room. I’m early and waiting for him right now, watching all of the people, counting heads and mapping exits. I checked email for some jobs – I have 4 jobs this week repairing computers, maybe I can come in for coffee one other time this week.

Ok. There he is. It’s now or never.


	7. Welcome to the World Bucky Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alt chapter title: "Emotions are a Bitch"
> 
> Bucky meets up with Sam for coffee and conversation.

I’m so overstimulated. I’m actually having trouble stilling my hand enough to write any of this down but if I don’t let it out, I don’t think I’ll be able to function.

Ordinarily I’d sit in the quiet, still night air and decompress but too many emotions won’t let me sit still. I feel so exposed.  I was laid bare in front of him; he knows more of what I did than I do, between recollections he’s surely had to endure from Rogers and the files they must have on me. He knows a lot of whom, of what I was. I guess it should have been easier with his declaration that all things in the past are just that, but to have him have so much intel on me when I know fractions and fragments is frightening as hell.

I’m not saying that he walked into the place with my entire rap sheet and started interrogating me. The build-up to his arrival hadn’t even been stressful so I wasn’t projecting anything either, it’s just that the minute I saw him, and as he sat at the table, all I could think about was ‘what is he judging me for?’ ‘Which of my past sins are the worst in his eyes?’

Honestly it went well with Sam at coffee, he has a gift. He’s able to bring a sense of calm to people (well, me) in just a few moments. As we started to have our coffee and talk – small talk like any other coffee shop patron – the feeling abated. I’m not sure, but I think he expected me to bring up Rogers. I expected a little of that as well. To his credit, he only mentioned him once at the end of our talk. Of course, I’d have to bring him up at some point, but not before we got to the meat of our talk.

“Thank you, Sam, for coming, for not judging me. This can’t be easy for you.”

“It could get tricky, but we made a pact, right?”

“Yeah, but if you want out, I get it. You didn’t know ‘this’” I gestured my general area “was what you were signing up for.”

“No. No, I did not. However, I did sign up and I owe you what I promised. This **is** weird, for both of us, I’ll bet.”

“More for you, since you’ve only just found out who _I_ am.”

“Don’t kid yourself, I might only just now know who I have been talking to but I know more **about** you than I’m betting you know about yourself, which is why I won’t initiate many topics today. I don’t want to undo any progress you’ve made by feeding you info you don’t have experience dealing with yet. I won’t let you flounder either, if you get stuck, I can prompt you so you can continue.”

“Sam, it’s just like on the phone, 'kay?” There were a couple more of those rambling false starts on both sides before we actually laughed.

“Do you know the last time I laughed? Laughed with someone?”

“No” He frowned. I guess at the look on my face.

“The night before I fell in 44. We knew that the next day would be crucial and we’d traveled some rough terrain through snow – a blizzard – lots of ice.” I shuddered at the chill that only I felt. “We were all on edge from the storm and from the coming mission so Dugan broke out his reserves and we were up most of the night swapping stories, trying to one-up each other with our escapades. Every story was a fish tale, embellished to the limits of the sanity of the storyteller. I only remember a few.

“Jones talked about luring a cousin out one night to a speakeasy and abandoning him when the joint was raided, so the cops dragged the boy home to his mama smelling like moonshine, his shirt covered in lipstick.

Dugan crowed that he’d once had to duck out the window of Hedy Lamarr’s hotel room before her husband could catch him – the night before he shipped out.

“I remember laughing at them, and with them, and then telling them I wouldn’t be able to top them. I think I might have been able to create something out of Steve’s penchant for getting kicked around but why would I kick him too? Yeah, he was the big guy now, pulling my ass out of the fire but I always respected him and I knew his heart was still soft. I wasn’t gonna bruise it. I coulda talked about the girls and made something up to entertain everyone, but I remember starting to feel out of sorts. Like a sense of foreboding. Now that it’s past, I can identify that feeling I couldn’t quite place then.”

Instead of melancholy, I chuckled again with more fresh recollections, “Steve told us of his colossal error with Peggy and Stark. Has he told you the “fondue” misunderstanding?” At Sam’s raised eyebrows, I explained – we both laughed again.

“Crap. Funny thing is? That was all organic. I just now full-on remembered that whole thing. It’s usually a bigger jumble, pieces missing. The bad stuff has come in full rushes before, not the pleasant stuff. That was mostly pleasant, right?”

He laughed softly, both of us knowing that it was bittersweet at best. “You’re getting used to your rate of recovery. That’s something in itself, don’t let setbacks get to you.” He looked like he wasn’t sure if he was going to say more.

“What Sam?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen a doctor?”

“For what? I’m fit, active, I eat pretty well compared to the lean years before the war, don’t get me started on **during** the war.”

He smiled a smile in commiseration, military fare… “You were put through a hell of an ordeal.”

“By doctors”

“By hydra doctors” his voice was low, very urgent. I flinched and honestly neither of us knew if it was his tone or their mention.

“I’m sorry Bucky, That –“

“Will happen. It’s ok. No, no doctors. I make just enough to get by, I don’t have extra. If I catch a bullet I can fix myself up. I doctored Steve so much I could give lectures.”

“You’re living on the outskirts, where it’s dangerous, because of those bastards. You should be in a safe place, getting your benefits-I know how to get you your benefits, but you’d have to be processed.” He was being careful and observant, he noticed something, I know my jaw tightened, I may have given him a menacing look, “Not now – but you should know all that is a possibility in the future.”

“So is prison or execution.” I whispered.

“I don’t agree, I know logistically that seems possible but I really doubt it.”

“Convincing.”

“You were a POW. There were all kinds of violations and atrocities against you and your rights. You have a case when you’re ready.”

“I get it. I don’t know, though, this was a big step for me and I still kind of feel like I’m going to vomit. I can’t begin to think about that yet. Besides, I’ll need a team for that and when it comes to it, I will want Rogers on that team. He’s not ready for me yet and I’m not ready for him.”

“He thinks he is.”

“He thinks he can fix me, bring back “Bucky”; that guy – not this amalgam of all the things that makes up who sits before you – the guy who shares a name and a past, but has so much more baggage.”

“I think you don’t give him – or yourself – enough credit. He’s not the guy you laughed with the night before your fall. He’s seen, done and lost enough since then to be something very different too. That’s the funny thing about people, they’re always changing.

“I’m not pushing; it’s just something to think about. Listen, before I leave the city, would you come to a VA meeting? We can just hang back, close to the door and you can get out any time as long as you let me leave with you.”

“How soon do you need an answer?”

“I’m here for 4 days, so any time before the end of Thursday.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

I could see why Rogers likes Sam; he’s a very insightful person. It’s obvious he’s been through shit too, when he talks about my shit being sort of relatable. He gives a shit and knows about pacing and space issues. He’s careful when needed and no-nonsense if necessary. I admire what he has made for himself. I respect the words he chooses, not to be cautious or fearful of me but to be respectful of me.

I haven’t been respected in a very long time. No one has been conscientious of my well-being in a very long time. That realization had me crumpling in my seat, turning into a bawling idiot, in public, no less.

“Hey man, Bucky, what can I do?” I think I waved my hand at him from my position face down on the table. “Ok, I’m right here. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“That’s a lie.” I lifted my head just a little, enough that I had to roll my eyes upward to see him. “I’m not ready to know anyone respects me, even a little. Not ready to deal with that and the responsibility it brings, but it’s right here.” I sniveled, gesturing at him. “I hate all this crying. I’m not a crying person, am I?”

He smiled, he wanted to laugh, I could tell. “Emotions are a bitch, welcome to the world, Bucky Barnes.” He grinned the dopey grin I was getting used to, then it morphed into something else, serious yet pleasant. “You deserve respect for all you’ve done to get here.” His hands softly smacked the table.

“Moving forward.” I sighed. “I keep forgetting this is the direction with all my trying to remember the past.”

“Yet you had a complete memory – even a decent one – just a few minutes ago without even trying. Just work on moving forward with what you have. More will come, some good, some not. Just like before.”

“I’m sorry, it seems we go ‘round and ‘round with this.”

“Until we don’t have to any more, then something else will cycle in.”

“Yeah, not sure I’ll get there.”

“Of course you will. Remember you set your own pace; try not to add road blocks where there are already enough obstacles. I want you to know my goal isn’t to reunite you with Steve. That’s going to happen organically.

“That said; you have to know that I’m in a tough spot because I’m supposed to be helping him find you, and I’ve promised you security. I’m lying to him. I’m only telling you this because you need to know that I’m loyal to Steve and it’s going to be an ugly mess for me when this comes out. That’s something I signed on for when I opened my life up to help on the hotline. That’s something I can’t compromise, as much as I hate compromising my friendship with a very decent man, I can’t compromise my promise to the vets who call the hotline for anonymity.”

“Don’t.” I couldn’t let him betray Steve. He looked at me curiously, “don’t lie to him. Tell him you know; you’re helping me. Tell him you met me today and you just found out the basket case you’ve been using up all your minutes on was me all along. Tell him I’m not ready and I’ve asked you to promise not to betray where I am to anyone yet, especially not to him. Tell him I’m ok and tell him I’m just not ready yet. He has to respect that.”

“I gotta put this out there – I did **not** tell you that to give you guilt. I –“

“I know. You’re his friend – I respect you Sam. He respects you. The reason I’m even here today doing this is because your trust and my respect for you wouldn’t let me leave so much in the dark. I couldn’t keep calling you, knowing I was essentially lying to you. If you go back and you see him, you’ll be in the same position. I can’t do that to you after all you’ve done for me. And I’ve hurt him enough and I know his not being able to get to me after this will hurt him, but not as much as him finding out you’ve been lying to him. You’ll hurt him and I’ll have caused it.”

“You might be underestimating him. Don’t. Let me finish – You two meet on your terms but what I’m saying is I think he’ll be able to put aside that urgency if he knows, really knows that you’re safe. He’s fierce. Fiercely loyal, fiercely protective, but he is fair and he knows that choice, more importantly, you being able to choose your life is the important thing. If I get him to see that **choosing** recovery, building life skills and getting familiar with who 21 st century Bucky Barnes is before coming home to build a friendship with 21st century Steve Rogers. If he knows that the only one controlling his friend Bucky is **you** he’ll wait and he won’t be hurt.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“Yeah, it’s going around.”

“So,” I sighed, agreeing with him reluctantly, ready to move on, “You said you wanted to read my journals?” I slid the notebook I’d been using across the table.

“Can I take this? I can get it back to you before I leave – at the VA maybe?” he showed a sneaky smile.

“Let’s plan on it, but I can back out any time. We’ll come for coffee again either way.”

Before we left he gave me a loaded duffel bag “I didn’t know what you’ve been able to get, what you’d need but the weather is getting worse and I had a bunch of things – if you don’t mind, ‘master of repurposing things’."

“Sam, thanks.” I was truly, deeply touched.

“Don’t mention it, just – if you can’t use any of it – drop it at the VA”

“Or give it to you the next time I have a meltdown and need a hand to hold?”

“Any time.”

He’d also loaded up a gift card for the coffee shop “I know how nice it is to have a little extra treat.”

“I’ll bet you have vets following you around like pups.”

“Just the super soldier variety, seems they need a little extra attention.”


	8. Troubleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time tricks me; sometimes I’m the timekeeper and sometimes I’m time’s bitch - Bucky Barnes

When I got home after meeting Sam, I was too emotional to settle in. I was afraid of a setback and I sprinted past my room to the roof access. I stood near the edge for a long time, waiting for the flare-up. It didn’t come but I finally did vomit. Yeah, pleasant thought. Oddly, it seemed to purge that urgent feeling of unease.

For several days after the meeting I focused on keeping busy with my jobs. It was, I think, the second day before I opened the duffel bag. It was stuffed with efficiency, filled with enough clothing for an army. There were several sizes so I found things that would fit my frame and kept them, putting the others in piles. Everything had been rolled and folded so well before I dug in. The floor resembled a field of hay mounds when I was through.

There was a department store gift card marked “too personal” with a goofy bird doodle that made me smile against my better judgment; a grocery gift card that said “eats” and tons of toiletries.

My own ma never packed that well for me. Maybe Sam could get Steve to draw my ma for me… I can almost see her face. If we ~~have~~ had the same eyes, sometimes I imagine **that** is what I recognize in the mirror.

The third day I called Sam just to reassure him and remind myself the location of the VA where we we were to meet. It was a bit out of the way of my place which meant the streets or the train. I took the streets.

Yes, the train is underground. No, I don’t think I’m being drastic. I try to figure things out myself and it just comes down to this: my head’s full of info that was previously inaccessible. If I couldn’t know what to fear,  I could be fearless. Now I know a few things that are a bit hard to reconcile, it might not be entirely rational, but if there’s a chance that I’ll recede or melt down and I can avoid it, I will. Trains make me uncomfortable. Maybe, in time…

Taking the streets just leaves me in a sea of people and susceptible to weather. It was a drizzle when I set out. The rain stopped just over halfway there and the sun tried to get through the gray. It lit the city with a soft light that I had a hard time not looking away from. It’s been a very long time since I looked at and enjoyed my surroundings. I stopped. I was jostled and bustled past but that didn’t seem to quite register. I just looked out across the water watching the golden autumn sun fight for its place in the gray, rooting for it to break free. Even though it’s stronger than the vapor, it seemed to put up a small battle anyway. I’m not sure exactly how long I stood watching the gold and gray stake claims on the city. Time tricks me; sometimes I’m the timekeeper and sometimes I’m time’s bitch.

As the clouds conceded the battle I started again towards the VA, calling Sam in case he thought I’d changed my mind. “Sorry I’m late. I had a moment”

“You alright?” his concern warming my heart further.

“Yeah – it was a good moment this time. I’ll tell you about it over coffee after the VA.”

“You’re still coming?”

“Yes, I have a bunch of stuff to drop off,” I smiled, “and I’m meeting a friend.” Strangely, the once foreign concept was appealing. I was still uncertain about the atmosphere at the VA, not knowing what to expect but being absolutely certain that I wasn’t going to find a fit. I wouldn’t be able to relate. I’d zone out from boredom and who knows what the result would be.

So to say that I was shocked at just how much I **could** relate to what these men and women shred, some with deliberate strength, some with a practiced air and even some through tears, shocked would be an understatement. At one point from where I was standing – not quite in the room – I had to turn away but I didn’t leave. I stayed, facing the door on the other side of the hall and listened to the horrors other soldiers live with, feeling them in my own chest.

We were quiet in the cab Sam hailed to the coffee shop. Other than the location of the coffee shop to the cabby, his first words since our greeting outside the VA a couple of hours before were to the barista in greeting. Then, as we were seated, he spoke to me, “You know, Steve’s first VA meeting was spent with him standing in the doorway too.”

“Yeah?” part of me couldn’t imagine Steve with any kind of issues, PTSD especially, and the other part was hurt and angry that he might actually have to suffer that. Pretty sure I told him to stay home.

“Second too, actually.” He offered a soft smile, “I think he still thinks he was just there to visit me.”

“That wasn’t terrible." I had to admit, "Thanks Sam.”

“So, did you still want to talk about your moment?”

For a second I drew a blank then the image of the sun flickered and I smiled. I told him about avoiding the train, “Reasonable.” He nodded.

And how the sun seemed to battle the gray for its place,“It was like a visual representation of what’s been happening to me lately, opening up and finding the light I had doubted was inside. I thought it was doused long ago.”

“I can tell by the progression of your journal and these past two meetings I think you’re well on your way to taking back your life.”

“Recreating. There’s nothing left to take back, like you said, even Steve is different.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t want you in his life.”

“I know. I want that too, eventually. It might be a while, it might not, look how quickly I came around to this.”

He nodded. “I talked to him last night, told him what you said I could. He called back this morning asking me to ask you a favor. – No, he respects your need for space. He wanted me to just ask you if you could leave the hydra situation to “us” until we get to the last roundup. He sid he’d stand back and watch you clean house then.”

“It’s not his fight, Sam.”

“It damn well is!" his voice was firm, his face steely, "Hydra stole **both** your lives, tortured his best friend, made him have to watch his wartime sweetheart die of old age but not the way he'd imagined it; and they’re still chasing **both** of you. He knows it’s more your fight than his, he also knows you’re a more valuable target. You could easily be compromised going in without backup. He wants to work **with** you as a team but since that’s a definite “no”…”

“I can’t agree to his terms.” I watched as he sat back, resigned, “ **but…** I’m keeping very busy with jobs that take a lot of my time recently and I haven’t had time for research, recon or to even get enough gear together to even consider a mission lately, so… tell him to hurry it up or I’ll be back out there before he can do what he thinks he can do. If he doesn’t remember me at that so called “last roundup” I’ll remember him.” I meant it. My work is starting to be a point of pride and I really do need the income from it if I want a roof over my head. “I don’t know when it took a priority over hydra, I think all of these feelings are making me soft.”

He chuckled, “not with that look on your face.”

“Very funny.”

“Nope. Not soft.”

“Yeah?” I considered for a moment, remembering a very soft moment, “How’s this for soft? Could you ask him…”

“No. No, no. I won’t play telephone. If you have something to say, use my phone but for god’s sake, be an adult – and I’ll tell him the same thing.” He was pulling up Steve’s contact. The coffee I’d just swallowed burned hotter as my stomach lurched. “It’s the phone, Bucky. You’re good on the phone.” He hit send…

I took the phone feeling both urgent and reluctant.

“Sam.”

“No, Steve it’s…”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah. So, I need a favor.”

“Anything Buck. Are you ok? Is Sam…?”

“Yes, It’s dumb, but I really need to ask.”

“Ok. Anything, like I said.”

“Do you remember my ma? How she looked? Could you draw her for me?” I cannot believe I was wiping tears from my face.

“Oh Bucky. Yes. It would be a pleasure. Are you sure that’s everything?”

“Yes. I gotta go, Steve.” I was **not** ok. “Thanks” I ended the call.

“Not bad.” Sam said, taking the phone I thrust at him.

“Yeah, that’s what you say.”

“You’re good Bucky. It’s ok, really –“

“It was not good.”

“A guy needs his mama” he smiled, not judging or patronizing; pulling up a photo of him and his mom in an embrace.

“Jerk.”

“You’re ok.” He was reassuring me and possibly himself. “You made his day.” He added with a smirk.

“Wasn’t my goal.”

“Best kind of good deed… the unintentional one.”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

“Buy you a pastry to make it up?”

“How **do** you get anything done if you can’t be serious?”

“The last thing you want is to have _me_ get serious. You’re not shaking any more. Remember the sunlight in the clouds? It’s a good day, Bucky.’

“It’s not a bad one.” I reluctantly agreed, a little.

We finished coffee and pastries – decadence I haven’t been allowed nor have I allowed myself and talked a little more, this time about Sam. About his service and the loss of his friend and partner, I could see the haunted flicker behind his eyes but he maintained his good-natured attitude. Yeah, I really respect what he’s been able to make of his life. If I could get to the point where conversation doesn’t lead me to shaking, stuttering, fear of a meltdown or a complete regression, and all can be reflected in a brief haunted flicker, I’d be so happy.

I’m not saying he doesn’t have his bad moments or days even, just – I’d like to think I might get to his level.

When we eventually had to go our separate ways, he gave me my journal and some music tips. “I told Steve about that one the day I met him. Check it out.”

I chuckled; “Troubleman huh?”

He smiled a long suffering smile I assumed was his way of dealing with nonagenarian supersoldier wit.

“I could really call you that you know. Given our complete history and that “Bird-Man” crap.”

I laughed out loud, startling both of us.


	9. Knight in Shiny Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets a princess and fights a dragon - with an old ally

It was Monday, new work week, even for an under-the-table freelance fixit guy, and it had been 4 days since Sam’s visit and I managed to get myself involved in the most ridiculous problem – here’s no way anything can top this. None.

On my way home from dropping off a laptop I’d finished (job well done) a little tiny person stopped me in my tracks. She had the most terrifying look on her face, she’d been crying.

She tugged on my jacket, “Mr.?” she sniffled. I froze.

What on earth was I supposed to do about this scrawny, miniature human being with giant silvery blue eyes and her golden mop of unruly hair? When did people start seeing me? How was she not running the other way?

“Mr. Can you help me?” Nope, I’m not invisible. I’m not menacing.

I found myself crouching in front of her, coming into closer contact with her tear-stained cheeks and slender shoulders, so familiar. “What’s the problem?” The words sounded soft, even to me.

She rubbed her eye with her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt down her moist cheek, so endearing and heart wrenching. I felt like I’d been here before. “I got lost. I lost my brovver.” She pouted.

“Were you all alone? Where are your parents?” Lost in New York City; Great. Dangerous, frightening, best place to take her? Worst place for me to go… The police station.

“Mammas at work. Don’t got a poppa. My brovver binged me from school.”

“How old are you?”

“”M four ‘n a haff .”

“How old is your brother?”

“Hims elebben!.”

“Shit.” (I think that was under my breath, also not sure, and yet pretty sure she’s heard the same and worse. Such is the experience of a street kid.)

“Do you know your mommas phone number?” long shot, “or where she works?”

“At da store.” She said, shrugging.

Shit kid, you’re killin me. “Ok, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Ellie.”

“Ellie, nice to meet you. I’m Bucky. What’s your brother’s name?”

“Stevie.”

Shit kid, “Ellie, do you know how to get to your school from where we are?” maybe the boy would know to stick around there.

“It has a playground.” She looked hopeful, I’m sure she figured she was as helpful as she was endearing. “Wif a purple slide.”

“Is it close to us?”

Her shrug killed me a little more. This little-girl-Steve with her Stevie brother, just eleven, so much the same as back so long ago. “Can you show me the purple slide?” I smiled at her sharp nod and strands of her hair banging on her pink cheeks. She tugged at my hand, so I rose and followed.

She slipped her tiny hand around my metal one, rubbed my finger and looked up at me, “It’s so pretty” she continued running her finger along mine, looking intently at – the shine? She shape? Her reflection, maybe?

“What’s pretty, Miss Ellie? The purple slide?”

She shook her head, those floppy bangs swaying across her forehead, “Nope, your hand. It’s shiny and cold and pretty.” She grinned. “The purple slide is muddy.”

No way to argue with the logic of a tiny person who scrunches her nose up at a muddy slide but approaches and takes the (metal) hand of a grizzled, unshaven war veteran/former assassin. What argument could you even try to make? “I think you just think it’s pretty because you can see your pretty smile in the silver.”

“Nope. Thasss not it Bukeeeee” she kicked a leaf with her tiny sneaker. “why is yore hand shiny?”

“Because it’s made of metal, my real arm was injured and I needed a new one.”

“I never got a new one – see? I juss got dis band aid.” She pointed the finger of her free hand to the sky, a pink bandage engulfing it.

“Band aids are best. You don’t want to **need** a new one. Just keep using the band aids, Miss Ellie.”

“Momma kissed diss one better. Did yore momma kiss it better too?”

“Nope.” I sighed, still looking forward to that drawing. “She would if she could, but it’s ok. It was a very long time ago.”

She kept tugging me along, toeing at fallen leaves randomly. The next thing I knew, there was a playground in front of us with a purple slide and an agitated young boy, equally slender, wisps of golden hair obscuring his bright and shimmering eyes.

“Stevie!!” a pink bandaged hand flailed a wave while Ellie didn’t even to try to let go of my hand, dragging me toward her brother with her skipping ahead just slightly. “Buckeeee rescued me!”

“Ellie, you shouldn’t have run off! Momma would kill me if I lost you!” He hugged her, looking from her to me, “Thanks mister.”

“He’s not a ‘Mister”! I tole ya! He’s Buckeeee.” I kinda love the way my name trails off her tongue.

“Bucky?” he eyed me, suspicious, grateful, cocky, “Thanks. She’s trouble but she’s the best thing ever. I was so scared.”

“ME too, til Buckeeee rescued me!” She held up our still joined hands. “See!!! He’s a KNIGHT IN SHINY ARMOR!!”

“And you’re a princess.” I smiled at her, “She rescued herself, Stevie. She just needed a little backup.”

“Thanks for bein’ her backup then. Cool arm dude.”

I’ve never had any real hatred for it, it’s a tool, and it’s pretty much always been there, so I was a little surprised how the admiration it was getting was making me feel (better?) about it. Hydra are scum but from a design standpoint, they kinda always had a real eye for beauty. “Thanks. So are you guys ok now?”

“Yeah. We gotta go meet my mom at her work. Thanks again ~~Mist..~~ Bucky. C’mon, Ellie.”

“Jussta minit” she told him haughtily, “Buckeeee – C’mere.” She crooked her pink taped finger at me. I crouched; she still had her fist wrapped around my fingers, she rubbed my hand again and whispered “I’m sorry yore momma can’t kiss yore booboos better.” Then she looked me in the eye, deeply, mature beyond her years, placing her free hand on my cheek, “Thanksss fore being my knight in shiny armor…” and she kissed my forehead.

“My pleasure, Princess Ellie.” My heart tripped over memories of Becky, little and earnest; so very long ago.

As they walked away, I heard the long-suffering Stevie ask “How did you get those scrapes on your knees Ellie?”

“Some big girl was pushing Sally around, so I tole her she hadta stop it right now! She pushed me down and I wolled over and tripped her legs juss wike you showed me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I returned to my original path home. Princess Ellie – the little bully-fighter.

* * *

 

I never would have expected yesterday to bring nightmares. It was so perfect and sweet; I’d fallen asleep listening to some mellow, classic, non-generational music and must have taken for granted that my peaceful state of being would hold.

Boy was I wrong!

 _The small person came up to me – “Buck, you didn’t need ta do that. I’m a big kid – practically a **man**_ (he exaggerates) _now and don’t need you to fight for me!” He was bleedin’, bruised and 55 pounds of pure indignance, the little jerk was about an inch shorter (maybe more) than he should have been at the ripe old age of ten. The fury seething off of him made me want to laugh, but I never would._

_“I know “ **Steve** ”” (no more “Stevie” for “big-kid-Rogers”)._

_“Ya don’t have ta say it so sarcastically “ **Bucky** ””_

_“Doesn’t work on me “ **Stevie** ”, Tol’ ya Bucky’s my name.” I deflected his attempt at a punch (still not laughing)._

_The next thing I knew, I was trying earnestly to bash his head in; “ **YOU’RE! MY! MISSION!** ” But it wasn’t the little guy doing the punching and it wasn’t the tough guy in the stars and stripes getting bashed, it was the hard-ass with the metal arm trying to kill the underweight kid in the alley. As I braced for the kill shot, I was jolted awake by the image of a little pink bandage waving at me “Buckeeee – yore my knight in shiny armor!”_

I dialed the phone. I don’t know what had made me scramble for the piece of paper, I could speed-dial Sam but I’d frantically dug for the god damned blue sticky note beneath my keyboard.

“H’llo”, it was muffled and sleepy.

“Steve! Why did you do it?” I managed, my voice sticking in my throat, “Why the fuck did you do it?!”

“Do what? Bucky? Is that you?” he seemed to be sifting through thoughts to catch up.

“Tell me why!”

“Buck, I can’t understand; slow down.”

Breathe, Barnes. Breathe. I sucked in a few sour breaths.

“Bucky?” It sounded young, small, frightened, “Are you in trouble?”

I looked around, uncertain. I was definitely not clear yet, the dregs of sleep clouding my brain and the violence still surging through my veins. “N – No, I think … I don’t think so.”

“Why did I do what, Buck?” He sounded less frightened, bigger, and stronger.

“Why did you let me go?” No, no, that wasn’t right.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know.” Now he was crying. Steve never cried, not even through his worst pain, or in his sickest moments. Never.

“No! I lost the right word.” I started again, “Why did you let me --- “ I don’t know why I hesitated, the question was so important, and still so wrong with the lack of a word.

“Fall?” it was a choked sound, almost as bad as that first choked breath on the beach. If I hadn’t already been on my knees from my desperate search for the number I never expected to use, I’d have hit them hard at that sound.

“No, Stevie. Why did you let me almost kill you?”

“You wouldn’t ever.’

“I nearly did.”

“You didn’t. No way it would happen. Not after all the years you spent trying to keep me alive.”

“You couldn’t **know** that.” I felt angry with him now.

“I **know** you, Buck – the heart of you; Just like you know the heart of me. We can change, but only so much of us will be different. I’m proof of that and so are you.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty different.” I wasn’t quite angry and the mood switch thing was too heavy, I followed the weight of it and spread out in the middle of the floor on my back, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing and the silence.

“Bucky?” he breathed, like he wasn’t sure it was even happening. “Are you – what can I do to help, Buck?”

“Fix everything?” I choked on the nearly hysterical chuckle.

“Sure wish I could. We’re in the wrong century, I’d fix that.”

“Not me. It’s ok.”

“Really? It’s loud, It’s insane. It’s bright.”

“Really.” I confirmed. “I see why you resist, it’s all new to you; I saw it coming, in pieces and flashes. You lost everyone; I had no one.”

“You had me, Buck.” He sounded so earnest, so certain.

“Did I, Steve?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was being a dick, but I think it came out like that. “I don’t know why I said that, forget it. I forget everything.” I think the panic I was starting to feel came across in my voice.

“Bucky, can I send Sam to you? What do you need?”

I scrambled to my feet, suddenly, urgently feeling that “flight” part of “fight or flight”. I still had the phone in hand – I must have, since I found it later. I fled to the roof, rifle case in hand – much like the night months ago, the broiler fire night.

Once I was perched on my corner stone, I methodically pulled out the rifle pieces and attached the scope, poised and ready – some battle in my head tickling at my conscious.

“Bucky!!” I finally heard from the phone at my feet. I blinked at the city lights through the scope, then over the barrel, “Buck!” I looked around first, “Sergeant Barnes!” came a louder, authoritative snap, I looked down to the sound and picked up the phone, “Bucky?” it was still him.

“Steve?” I heard his gasp, or sigh of relief.

“Where did you go, Buck?”

“War, Steve. Like always. Why didn’t we keep our noses to ourselves? Why did you beat down the doors to get into a war? Why did I sign up anyway? Killing, Steve. Why did we do that?”

“We believed.”

“We were fools.” My voice sounded harsh, even to me.

“Bucky, I’m scared right now. Can I help you with anything?”

“Come.” I moaned, “Come talk me down.”

“Where are you?”

“Roof.” I breathed.

“ **Bucky**!!”

“Not jumping, Steve. Emotionally – talk me down. The fall would probably just maim me,” I breathed a ragged breath, still staring out over the city, “past experience.”

“Not funny Barnes.” When I chuckled he added “Seriously, not funny. Address of this rooftop you’re **not** jumping from?!”

I didn’t even think as I rattled off my twenty and his breathing changed and adjusted as I imagine he jumped to action – readying to come to where I was definitely not jumping.

“I’m taking my bike, won’t be able to talk – my helmet that **would** accommodate that is in Stark’s “to do” pile.”

“Don’t hang up, Steve.” I pleaded. I didn’t know then and still don’t know why that urgent request was so damned important, but my pulse was rushing and I’m fairly confident I was on the verge of something. Full recession was my biggest fear, always is, but anything beyond the nightmare and frantic actions following it were unpleasant thoughts at best, detrimental to my current collectiveness at worst.

“You got it, Buck.” And he didn’t lie – I listened to the Harley’s engine roar for some time, until the moment I saw him come into view through the rifle scope, about the same time the sound of the engine started to echo around me through the phone and in real time. The dual sounds ended as the engine was shut down and within moments, the dual sounds I was hearing were the sounds of Steve’s voice calling my name.

“Rooftop.” I repeated into the phone, I finally realized I was holding with a death-grip.

“Bucky?” his voice was soft, careful, as the sound of his footsteps landing gracefully over the steps in the stairwell came to a stop. I was still facing my city, rifle in one hand, the phone in the other, crouched and ready to flee.

“Please come down Buck.” His tone was intended to charm wildlife to come see all his goodness. He didn’t want to “spook the asset”.

“I can’t, Steve.” I wasn’t lying, I felt frozen by my current state, by my fear of what could come over me.

He approached, the gravel under his feet in that one spot by the door that needed to be repaired crunching, then the smooth concrete giving a different percussion as he came closer. I felt his hand on my right shoulder but didn’t flinch. I’d allowed someone to come at me from behind. I’ll have to take a closer look at that sometime. “Buck, you can put down the gun.” He was so close, how did he do that? “Will you let me put it away?” That enchanted forest voice again. I taught him that, soothing his asthmatic breathing a century ago. He was disassembling the weapon, not talking, no longer touching. Just. Present. Then he climbed onto the wall near me and sat.

“Nice view.”

“Safe.”

“I’m sure you made sure of that first thing.” I didn’t reply, we were both still looking over the view, I think. “You always had a knack for that.” He patted the wall, “Sit Buck, there’s no reason to flee, you can sit. I mean, that can’t be comfortable?”

My calves were burning from the long, low crouch. My thighs were stinging; I eased onto my ass, my thigh brushing against his fingers that were still rested where he’d settled his hand after the invitation.

His breaths were measured and rhythmic, I’d always been tuned to them – out of necessity and I zeroed in on them now. He was forcing himself to a calm state and I took my next breaths with him in a role reversal. We just sat, overlooking my dirty neighborhood and the more distant and lovely view as the sky lightened incrementally and we sat and we just continued to sit, and to breathe.

“Do you remember?” I started, looking at his profile; he turned, “when we swore nightmares were for kids.”

He huffed, a bitter sound. Something I vaguely recalled from a time when he was sick to death of doctors and even then it was a rare sound. “Dumb kids, Buck, who thought they had all the answers.”

“So, you have ‘em too?” I felt like his admission or denial was crucial somehow.

“Yes, Bucky, Captain America has nightmares.” The bitterness was still present.

“You were never “Captain America” to me Stevie.” The grimace on my face as I recalled my nightmare must have startled him.

“What’s wrong Bucky?”

“Stevie. I remembered and dreamed and it was so real. Do you remember when we almost fought each other; you threw a punch at me over calling you “Stevie”?”

“I was a punk.” He smiled.

“That started my nightmare tonight. It had been pleasant, amusing even, and then horrible.” I sighed – I felt the chill of it again in a remote way. I explained the nightmare and my meeting with Little Ellie and her Stevie.

“They reminded you of me. And your subconscious filled in the questions in your dark spaces. The light was stronger, Bucky. Ellie was **your** rescuer tonight.”

“I asked you earlier why you let me almost kill you.”

“You would never.”

“How could you be so stupid to believe that?”

He gestured to encompass the two of us, “You didn’t. And you pulled me out. I meant it; you spent too many hours, days, nights **and** years keeping me alive to kill me. You are **not** “the asset” – you’re a human being with a soul. Our souls are forever connected.”

“That could be a bad thing.”

“Or not.” He swung a leg over to straddle the wall and face me. “I’m gettin’ hungry – I hear you know a decent coffee shop with killer pastries – how ‘bout it?”

I can’t believe he dragged a grin out of me, but I led him from the roof feeling just a little closer to human than animal. We dropped the weapon at my place.

“Nice Buck. I was really worried maybe you weren’t being honest with Sam. I’m glad you have this place.”

“It’s nothin’ – but it’s everything.” I am proud of my little room, “It ain’t home, but it’s warm and safe enough.”

“It’s private and cozy and yours.”

“Yeah, it’s better than a lot of legitimate vets get.” I frowned.

“Yeah, you’re right, doesn’t that just make you wonder?” he was looking rather frazzled.

“No. We both know it’s all corruption.”

“The hardest war to fight.”

“Second.” I corrected, “This mind battle is the hardest. You have it too?”

“Yeah.” He frowned. “So, coffee? We can still commiserate over this and feed our faces, right?”

“What? My digs not up to your standards?”

“You got pastries and coffee hiding ‘round here someplace?”

For the second time in a week, I laughed with a friend.


	10. Role Reversal (of sorts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been the one crumbling but haven’t seen it from this angle before. I hate both sides. He didn’t look at all large and fearless, but he wasn’t the slim, sick kid either. It was strange that this Steve was more familiar to me, even though I know of only the one time that I’ve “met” this Steve. The moment I chose to abort the mission, the instant before the crashing debris hurtled him from my grasp.

So, meeting up with Steve wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. There might be a lesson in expectation vs. reality in that. He’s always been the light in the darkness – it got dark and I reached out. Perfectly natural.

Another unexpected result, **five** nights where I slept soundly from the moment I tucked in to the moment the light from the window pricked me in the eye. Five days of jobs well done and new ideas for things to learn to do. Five days I could have focused on the hydra bastards instead of teaching myself how to repair the wiring in my place but I didn’t even think about them. Five days where Bucky Barnes was just a guy with some giant holes in his past, trying to fill them with skills for his future.

So that’s what it’s like when the sun rises? If so, that too will require some thinking. Instead, I went to the coffee shop and flirted with the Barista, Aspen. She flirted back and it felt entirely ridiculous and maybe even familiar, and not half bad. Though, thinking about the word flirt, as a word it’s been diluted in today’s world. Back in my day it was a scandalous term, what we did today with words, smiles and body language wasn’t even 1/3 as salacious as the true definition off the word implies. Oh well, it was harmless and that was how five days ended.

The sixth night could have been as nice, I’d put myself to bed – instead of snoozing at the computer – my bedroll in my little room was as welcoming as it had been five nights in a row. I tucked into my splurge of a soft – no - a fuzzy, soft blanket. I’d been shopping for those items Sam had labeled “too personal” when I passed this stack of impossibly soft blankets and turned right around to said stack, choosing the topmost one – the least manhandled. It has to be **the most** extravagant thing I’ve probably ever done for anyone. So I tucked into my bedroll under my soft blanket and drifted carelessly into sleep for the sixth night straight only to be jarred awake by **my** phone ringing. I call two people, ok _have called_ , and they both have my number, Sam wouldn’t call me. “Steve?” I muttered, not even looking to confirm my assumption.

“Bucky –“ his breathing was off, not quite asthmatic but not strong, measured or lazy breaths from my not so distant past. I recognized it then, Panicked.

“What’s wrong, Steve?” I rolled to my feet.

“Buck – I need you.”

“Hold on – You –? Are you OK?”

“No.” it was a small sound, or was it a sob?

“Where are you?” I grabbed 2 knives and my 45.

“Outside. Alley.” He panted.

I sprinted out the door and down the long hall to the back alley. I saw him, bent over, bracing himself against the wall of the neighboring building, alone. I approached cautiously and he grabbed me at the waist and just held on, still not catching his breath.

I put my fingers on his head, feeling the fresh haircut prickling and the soft longer strands. “Breathe Stevie.” It was all I needed to say to have him collapse in the littered alleyway. ‘Oh, I’ve been _here_ before.’ I thought, fondness and fear weaving around us. I knelt in front of him, not breaking contact. “Breathe, you got this.” His forehead hit my shoulder softly.

I’ve been the one crumbling but haven’t seen it from this angle before. I hate both sides. He didn’t look at all large and fearless, but he wasn’t the slim, sick kid either. It was strange that _this_ Steve was more familiar to me, even though I know of only the one time that I’ve “met” _this_ Steve. The moment I chose to abort the mission, the instant before the crashing debris hurtled him from my grasp.

I still had one hand on the back of his neck, thumbing the hair there as he sobbed. This was the second time I ever met the crying Steve Rogers and the first time I’ve seen it in person; and he hurts me with his pain, but I stayed and waited, “Inhale. Exhale.” Any time the sobs wracked him. **This feeling** I know intimately. This I understand to my soul (?).

It could have been forever or just a moment but we rode it out like that until he seemed to vacate. I’ve been **there** too. “Steve?” I went in slowly, gently, “If you need to, you can talk to me about it.”

A few minutes passed and I looked around, “How did you get here? Were you already here when it hit?”

“Ran.” He ground out, between clenched teeth.

“All the way here? Damn!”

“ ‘ve gone farther.” He whispered.

“I’m sure you have, pal.” He seemed to be coming out of that space – the one I hate worse than feeling lost in the moment – the fragile space where reality and the horror try to mend with their jagged edges. “Come on Steve; let’s get out of this alley. Inside? Roof?” I paused, standing and holding out my hand, “Coffee?” I smiled.

He took my assist and rose, swiping at his face with that old embarrassment he never needed to try to hide, but always did. “Coffee.” He agreed.

“C’mon man, I’m buyin’.”

By the time the coffee shop came into view (can I say “bless you 24 hour coffee”?) we were both alert/awake due to the autumn chill, welcoming the crisp breaths we took in the silence.

Sitting seemed to signal to him that he needed to say something, “I’m sorry Buck – I know I shouldn’t have come.”

“Steve, it’s alright.” It really was.

“I don’t even know what caused that –“ he waved, trying to describe, either to himself or to me – but I needed no explanation.

“I know. Trust me.”

“I do. You’re the last person I should have brought this to –“

“None of that horse shit Steve. I’m not going to break if you come to me.”

“There hasn’t been any real discussion on the rules going forward,” his look was half apologetic, half searching.

“No. And our having each other’s phone number and you knowing where I live must mean that the rules are flexible, fluid or nonexistent. Are there rules, Steve?”

“If you say there are, Buck.”

“The rule _was_ – Sam wouldn’t tell you where I was. It was up to me to reach out to you. And, well, what did I do? Just under a week ago, our positions were reversed. Are we friends, Steve?”

“I sure hope so, Buck.”

“You know – people think that there has to be any one thing to trigger this shit.” I said; getting back to his comment about not knowing what caused it, hopefully ending the back and forth about rules and shit. “They’re wrong. Don’t go tying yourself up trying to identify it. Sometimes you can – other times, no. And YOU…! You may be “enhanced” but you’ve let this “super” thing get into your head. You are a fucking person – entitled to the same rewards and subject to the same damned insecurities as anyone. Steve Rogers, the man. Not “Captain America”. You apologize to **no one** for your pain – you hear me Steve?”

He looked at me, dumbfounded for too long.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“I never really thought – I mean, I often wish I were entitled to, and allowed, ordinary feelings, but…”

I leaned forward in my frustration, hoping the reduced distance would emphasize my point; “Dumb ass. You **ARE.** This hero thing can’t decide who you are. You need to choose for you as much as I need choice in my life – to fix what’s broken. You need that too. Yeah, we’re fucked up, but you gotta give yourself the same consideration you give others. I’m still figuring shit out, _but_ I’m taking care of **me** first. You have to do that too.”

“Is that why you’re giving me the same ole “Stevie, take care of yourself” lecture?” was that a goddamned smirk on his face?

“Old habits, Stevie. But I think we might need each other to call “bullshit” on one another, so, yeah.”

“Hi there cutie” I heard coming around the side of our table, “twice in one day? Well I guess it’s technically tomorrow now. I’m just coming on shift. Can I get you or your adorable friend a refill?” she winked at each of us, “on the house – shhh.”

“Willow is it? I was sure you were Aspen yesterday.” I flashed her a grin, indicating her artistically styled name-badge.

“Oh, that’s my tree phase, this week I'm Willow - who knows what next week will bring. Lots harder to be creative with trees than it was during my flower phase. But don’t you just love how a willow sways in the breeze?” she chuckled, brushing her hand across my shoulders, then Steve’s.

“Delightful. And thank you for the refill, we could truly use it.” Hmm, Steve’s picked up a thing or two judging by the way he slashed her a smile and managed to flutter those ridiculous eyelashes.

As she walked away, swaying like a willow in the breeze, we both chuckled. “Feels good to laugh. Anything positive after that feels pretty good.” Steve smiled, it was still a weak attempt.

“Yeah, a gift, a glimpse at what’s good and worth fighting for.” I agreed.

“So, Barnes, when did you start spouting off about how you feel about things anyway? And why didn’t you tell me before how much you hate Captain America?”

“Since I started putting myself together and realizing that self-torture isn’t any better than being tortured by others.” I sighed, smiling lightly for “Willow” as she refilled our cups. “And I just hate the objectification of my friend in the name of “Captain America” and whichever entity is using you for propaganda this week.”

The look he gave me was priceless. Like it was new to him that someone might feel that way. I need to have a word with Sam if he lets this man think he’s only worthy as a prop.

We sat in a peaceful, companionable silence only breaking for flirtations with “Willow” as she flitted past. Yet, I could tell he was still practically vibrating with the adrenaline that was created from the episode, I put my hand on his bouncing knee, “You doin’ ok?”

“Agitated.”

“Is that a normal part of the process – for after – you know, for you?”

“Sometimes. This one got pretty bad. Worst in a long while. I can usually catch it, redirect with some physical activity or… but this one…”

“We can’t dodge all the bullets – even you know that.”

He was quiet, pensive, wringing his hands and fidgeting his fingers. I caught “Willow’s” hand as she passed, “do you have a pen we can borrow?” She handed me her pen with a smile.

“You boys still doin’ ok?”

“Yeah, rough night – we takin’ up too much space?”

“Oh, not at all, are you kiddin’? You two are good for business, how ‘bout a little breakfast on me?” She cooed with a soft smile.

“Don’t want to be a bother.”

“Have you **seen** how many guys and gals have come through here while you two go about your business? I mean it, you’re good for business, sittin’ in the window all sexy.” She smiled, “least I can do is keep ya fed and happy.”

‘Yeah? You wouldn’t have another one of those” I tucked my finger into her apron pocket playfully, “notepads around here?”

“Sweetie, you can have it.’

“Thanks.” I gave her another smile, taking the notebook with a brush of fingers, “A couple of those breakfast sandwiches you’re always talkin’ up please.” She hurried off.

“Here ya go Stevie.” I handed him the pen and notebook, “Might give your fingers something productive to do. Maybe sketch lovely “Willow” here.”

He took them almost absently but I could see it would work; calming him has been second nature forever.

We ate, he drew, sometimes we’d talk about something that was going on around us and we both managed more flirting with “Willow”. I’m impressed at his improvement in the flirting area, still needs some work, but he’s having an off day, maybe he’s even better than I think.

It took a while to notice the buzzing vibration dissipating, he’d bounce his leg, tap the pen, bite the cap pensively with his brow furrowed, that serious crease in the center deepening. I know this agitation personally and funnier, I recognize this wound up version of him. Once I realized this was the same as when he’d been cooped up too long from illness, I decided we’d be better off getting out.

“Willow, sweet, would you fix up your best sweet blended coffee for me?”

“Oh yeah! You want one of my Caramel Mocha masterpieces, sweetie?”

“That’ll do the trick, how ‘bout you, Stevie: Live a little?”

“Sure, Buck.” He replied absently. At least he was actively sketching.

“Can you make those to go? We got some walkin’ to do.”

“You got it, Bucky –“

“And don’t you refuse me the chance to pay for these. Add a couple of cups of coffee for someone who needs ’em too, would ya?”

“You got it. But don’t think I won’t treat you again soon.”

“Oh, I know to choose my battles with you.”

She laughed, a musical sound and brought us our drinks, I handed her the money and she cupped my cheek, whispering, “I really hope your friend’s ok, he looks less spooked now than he did earlier. Not sure what could spook Captain Rogers, but it’s a good thing he’s got you there for him.”

“At least you didn’t call him Captain America.” I whispered back.

“Yeah, well, he’s more than that, right?”

“So much more. Thanks for helping me take care of him - I see through all that "fee food" nonsense.”

“Think what you want. Bring him back any time, I’ll keep your window seat open, you can pull in more customers.”

“You bet.” I winked at her, and we were out the door. “Ok, where to, Punk?”

“Bucky, thanks for all of this, really. I’m a mess today.”

“Yeah, you are but you’re allowed to be. It’s allowed, Steve. Don’t apologize. Are you ok to go back to your place or did you want to find someplace less closed in than a coffee shop to keep winding down?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to be alone yet – let’s go find someplace – maybe by the water?”

“By the water it is. Lead the way.”

Our walk was again quiet, but he seemed mellow, we ended up at Brooklyn Bridge Park where we owned a bench for the next several hours. As we sat, he started talking; “I meant to tell you, I talked to Stark about the vets. You know, last time we talked, you reminded me of the situation for many veterans.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Not putting much faith in Stark, I waited to hear what else had to say.

“He and Pepper are already starting plans for computer stations where they can look for work and contact families. There’s a skills training center in the works and Pepper is already looking for the right property for housing – either to build or renovate. It sounds great.”

“It does, if it works out.”

“They sounded so excited, each time I see either of them they’re eager to tell me something new. I think you could run some of the skills training sessions…”

“I dunno Steve.”

“Down the road, after you’re ready to tackle everything else – I think it’s something to have in mind for your future. I’m jumping into my future trying to sell art. That took a lot of time and consideration. Please know I’d never rush you or pressure you. Just an idea for consideration.”

And I was. What would it be like?

“Yeah, in time, maybe. We need to figure out if I’ll even be a free man to get to make that kind of choice.” He paled, I’m not sure why – if it was that he hadn’t thought of the possibility or that he didn’t think I had.

“We’ll take care of that, Buck. There’s no rush, you’re safe.”

“You know that’s not true. Not until hydra (and the government) are taken care of am I safe. On that – I have some stuff you can take with you when you go. I’m off the hydra trail – **temporarily** – and I have some decent info that you might flesh out and do not forget to call me when you get to that “final showdown” did you call it?”

His look of surprise almost made me laugh, “Off the hydra hunt? Really? Why?”

“Life. When I started, I was underground – homeless even – but I worked systematically on things I **knew** existed using resources I had access to. As **we** started shutting them down from both sides, I’d gotten intel on an actual room for rent and started building on that. More time was needed to sustain that and my resources within hydra were literally burning out. Rooting them out is full time work but so is living like a decent person. I had to choose. I don’t have the luxury you do to make your mission your living too. I had to choose a new mission, Steve, “becoming Bucky”.”

Many emotions played out on his face, the last one took me some time to figure out. He’d been shocked; upset at the homeless comment; concerned and guilty. Then that last lingering look I later placed as pride. He approved of what I’d made for myself as he’d already said, so it was pride in my ability to break free and choose myself over a “mission”.

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got. I’m glad you area able to do this. Maybe you have a better grip on all this than I do. Burning them to the ground has been my main focus since before you… “

“Fell?” his hesitation, his guilt, tore at me so much more than the memory. “It wasn’t your fault. But you’re right. It’s time to finish it if you can’t let it go. You have to end it, but use your resources; use your team, your Avengers.”

“They’re more than just Avengers, Buck, they’re friends.”

“ **You’re** more than just an Avenger too, “ **Cap** ”, you’re Steve, my friend, theirs. Call them in on this. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself **any more** to get rid of hydra.” I almost regret the flinch he gave at my sarcastic use of his rank/title but he caught on to the overall tone of what I was saying. “Sorry if I was harsh.”

“No, you’re right, “ _Sarge_ ”,” _Oh that li’l shit._ “I’ve been shitty about how I’ve handled things.”

“Well, that came out of left field.”

“Yes, that was an apology.”

“Kind of; more an admission if you ask me, where’s the “sorry”?”

“Implied?” he grinned; it was genuine, relaxed and familiar. He was coming out of the funk. We stayed sitting on our bench for quite some time longer, he even returned to sketching in the notebook he still had from “Willow”. And it seemed a more relaxed exercise than earlier. I sat, knees up, arms around my legs, letting him have the time and quiet he needed, enjoying the warmer afternoon, autumn sun and my own peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at the suggestion of one of my fantastic readers, I've started Sam's point of view and added 2 chapters as a third part of the Correspondence series.


	11. Is it too soon for some love?

I'm thinking of writing the love stuff sooner than later. Is it too soon?  Comments please.


	12. Out of a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I put my head on her shoulder, the weight of everything emotional crushing in on me, “I came here to get away from this.”
> 
> “Fate won’t let you, come to think of it, neither will I. In a minute I’m going to go find him and put him in this corner with you.”
> 
> “Oh, you’re cruel.” But I managed a smile. “You wouldn’t.”

* * *

Two days later I decided to just say “screw it” and I called Steve. “Hey Steve!” I grinned when he answered.

“Bucky? You ok?”

“Yeah – that’s why I’m callin, actually. I don’t think we should have to go into defense mode any time the phone rings.”

“Wouldn’t that be original?” he laughed.

“How bout we set up a regular coffee meet up or something? Maybe weekly?”

“I’d really like that, whatever fits your schedule best.” He sounded more eager than his words let on.

“Hey, we’re both self-employed, best flexible schedules.” I purposely didn’t mention the Avenger thing, after last time and all my emphasis on them.

He laughed again and I pinched the bridge of my nose as a headache threatened. I was trying to reconcile the sound of his laughter; it was familiar but there was such a sense of déjà vu that was poking at my memories.

_The face in the mirror. So many dreams of me looking at “pre-war Bucky”, teary eyed and afraid – ashamed. The laugh had been Steve. Always Steve._

_He was in the background laughing at something someone – a girl – had said and I stood in front of the mirror like so many times before, judging –_

_“Bucky? Buck?”_ I thought I heard Jazz playing under the curious call of my name, “Bucky – are you still there?”

I mentally shook myself out of it – “huh? Oh, sorry Steve.” I breathed a ragged breath, “Steve.”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m here, where did you go? You wanna meet up now? Are you ok?”

“Slow down Stevie. It was just a memory. I’m good, honest.” I steadied myself, easing over to my “spot” in the corner, needing to ground myself further. There were thoughts, feelings(?) swirling around inside me. “Sometimes the memory will sort of consume me – I’m good Steve.” I repeated, closing my eyes tightly balling my fist – if it was my right hand nail marks might be tearing into my skin with the force.

Yes. I was lying. He knew it. “I know better Bucky. But if you **do** need me or Sam, don’t let it get too bad.

“It’s not like that. I know. You know I will. This? Feelings I need to sort out is all. Technically I’m shitty but overall I’m good, y’know?”

His words came out on the trail of a new chuckle; “Yeah, I know, better than most. SO. Coffee another day? Tomorrow or Saturday?”

“Fuck.” I breathed, “Let’s do both,” and I laughed softly, he joined in. “Loose rules, coffee at least once a week – or whatever.”

“I like that. Both it is.” He sounded exuberant. “Tomorrow at 11?”

“You sleep that late?!”

“Nah, I’m up with the dawn. I was thinkin’ of you, 'Mr. Don’t Do Mornings'.”

“Kay, eleven it is.” I nearly chuckled, almost feeling it.

“Bucky – don’t forget – you need us, you call, right?”

“It’s just a memory Stevie. I just gotta deal with unraveling it alone.” I was being dismissive and realized it. “If I need to – I’ll call. Promise.”

He seemed ok with that, “I’m really glad you called, Buck.” He said his emotions coloring words.

“Me too. It’s been a long time coming I should do normal shit.”

He chuckled again, warming me enough to truly smile myself.

I really had a lot to do once I got off the phone but I couldn’t move from my spot. I needed this time; I drew my knees up to my chin, wrapped my arms around my legs and fell deep in thought; into my memory.

_I would always stop at the mirror in the small bathroom as I shaved or cleaned my teeth, trying to look deeply into my own eyes, wondering why I couldn’t just be normal. What was I doing here anyway?_

_The other “me” would rub his jaw, pull down on his cheek or bite his lip as I did and give me plaintive looks. He saw as I wiped the tears away upon hearing Steve laugh with the pretty girl. It wasn’t his choice, this date with Darlene (or was it Suzie?), I’d set him up. Even then, I had my own date and here I was hung up in the washroom, pining [all over again] for my best friend. How was this possible? Sure, Steve meant the world to me; he was like the brother I never had, so yeah I loved him. If he ever knew how I felt when I saw him in the light of the tiny morning window or coming home from work at the end of a long, hot day – if I’d ever kissed him like I’d dreamed so many times._

_He’d sock me and disown me. If anyone else ever knew I’d likely be beaten in the streets, or possibly even locked up, or he would. Don’t matter I only ever felt that way for him – aside from one or two of the pretty dames I spent time with._

_Did I ever tell him? Seems as though I was terrified of losing him. He could be with a dame and he’d still love me as he does, as a brother, or I could tell him and have him disgusted and hating me. Of course I’d choose his love._

_But what about now? It’s a safe thing now and I could be lucky enough that he’d understand. Might be able to accept how I feel for him. I do know that after that last time we were together I still feel the same for him as I ever did._

I pulled myself up out of my wondering, knowing a little more about whom I was and wondering about yet more. I couldn’t be alone right now, my work would just have to be pushed aside, maybe a cup of coffee and a visit with Willow (or whatever tree she might be today, or flower, or – what might be next for the cute girl who flirts so prettily?).

 

Aspen again. That’s what I discovered when she greeted me at the door. “I was looking forward to seeing what you came up with next,” I gave her a pout, tugging at the name-tag.

“I’m so brimming with energy today Bucky – like the fluttering dancing leaves on an aspen! I just had to take another turn!”

I handed her the sketch Steve had done, “to remember “Willow” by.” I told her. She took my hand, not flinching or even remotely bothered by its coldness, and pulled me around the corner behind a heavy bookshelf and kissed me.

This girl was truly surging with energy and she applied it with a healthy dose of talent and beautiful sexuality. The kiss drew out with us grazing one another’s lips with delicate and not so delicate nips; crashing teeth and tongues; and a pure heat that shocked me to the toes. It’s been too long.

We sort of lingered in one another’s breath for a bit longer than should be comfortable but it was more than. “I’m not sorry, Bucky.” She smiled. “You can tell your beautiful Captain Rogers that I kissed you mercilessly and I’m not sorry.”

“Why would I tell him?” I smiled at seeing her flushed cheeks and reddened, swollen lips.

“You just essentially cheated on your boyfriend my dear, and I’m **still** not sorry.”

“My boyfr-? What? No, sweetheart, you’re wrong.”

She placed her hand on the side of my face, “You love him – are **in love with** him.”

“Aspen –“

“Nope, don’t deny it; it’s all over your utterly kissed and kissable face. His too. He’s a mess without you.”

“What are you even talking about?” I sighed, “He’s not.” I stopped my denial, it’s a new age, a new life. I won’t deny this anymore. “But I am – have been forever. What does that make me?”

“Queer, sweetheart. Beautifully so! You like boys and girls, _obviously_ ,” she gestured to our close proximity, my hand just above her waist, thumb just caressing the side of her breast, “Bi at the very least.” She smiled sweetly.

“ _Boy_. Singular. Only him – ever. Is that better or worse?”

She took my hands in hers, backed me into the shelf and stood there, sweetness and light – almost like him. “’Only **him’** makes you a very loyal, romantic person. Get it into your head and heart, sweetness, no such thing as better or worse. You love who you love. Don’t get hung up on making labels for it when you could use the time making up time with **your** boy.”

I stood, sandwiched between her gorgeous form and the sturdy shelf, almost melting into both with my weariness. “Now Bucky – gorgeous – your boy has been in the corner chair for the last hour, reading. You can either go over to him to get this out in the open or you can duck out the back. I’m here for you either way. I knew today was going to be a powerful day, seize it Bucky. That (and a huge desire to kiss the shit out of you) is why I ambushed you. You need to know It’s a beautiful thing. You need to know I talked as openly with him –“

“He's here? You kiss the shit outta him too?” I managed to pull my hand from hers to caress her full lower lip with my thumb. This is better than being helpless and feeling like jelly.

“Maybe a little bit.” She smiled, “I’d pay good money to watch you two kiss,”

I groaned, I could only imagine.

“Probably give a month’s pay to join you both.” She continued with a smile on her face.

“How is it you’re so fucking sexy?”

“It’s a gift – and you –”, she poked a finger into my chest, “ **Avoidance**.”

I suddenly felt like the guy – the one staring in the mirror, teary eyed and scared – I _was_ a fucking assassin, why am I scared? – Except, the eyes I was looking into were impossibly green; clear and unblinking; supportive and oh so ethereal.

“Bucky; gorgeous, mysterious Bucky, you deserve to be loved darling boy.”

“Who are you?” I really wanted to know, “I mean, how the hell are you even real? You hit on me and flirt like a dream, you’re sexy and I’d – oh God I’d fuck you for days if you said yes – and you’re here matchmaking.”

“You don’t love me. You like me, maybe even _Adore_ ” she purred, “me. But you **love** **him**.”

“God yes.”

She brushed at a tear that had betrayed me by escaping, “Then go out there and turn these to happiness.”

I put my head on her shoulder, the weight of everything emotional crushing in on me, “I came here to get away from this.”

“Fate won’t let you, come to think of it, neither will I. In a minute I’m going to go find him and put him in this corner with you.”

“Oh, you’re cruel.” But I managed a smile. “You wouldn’t.”

She just shrugged with a smirk, “I do have to get back out there. You **are** going to be ok!” She meant it – but she also meant “you’re coming out too, right?” and fuck if I didn’t know.

“I’m not this guy.”

“You’re ok. Honest. You’re just in love and on the verge of realizing you have a real chance. It’s big. Bigger than any battle you’ve ever faced, Sarge.”

I forget I’m public information. I try to stay unobserved, but got comfortable here. “If anyone finds out who I am – I.” maybe too comfortable.

“It’s ok. I won’t tell anyone – nobody here knows anything. You and I have a little bit of a fun thing going so I know your face, your eyes, and that captain? Everyone knows him – I’m a bit of a history buff so I put two and two together. Most people won’t. Not here, it’s too quiet here.” She took my hand, leading me out of the safe, dark space into the cozy coffee shop. My eyes searched him out before they were given permission.

Yeah, I’d be going over there.


	13. In Love and Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”I don’t just love you as a brother Stevie,” I put my palm on his smooth strong jaw, “I want you to be mine in every fathomable way. I want, like I’ve never wanted before, to kiss you senseless.”
> 
> “Well? What are you waitin’ for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is kind of long - because breaking it up would be so much more convenient for you all an because I couldn't find a clean break in the most recent chapter of Steve's Letters. Bucky's a wordy cuss.. Steve's so brief.

Knowing I was going to go over to him and doing it were two entirely different things. My legs felt foreign and my mind may have been more vacant than at any point in hydra’s captivity, no – wait – that was just my pulse in my ears drowning out all thought. A warm mug being pressed into my hands brought me back, a flit of green eyes and a mischievous, still kiss swollen smile giving me power over my limbs again.

I took a sip of the hot, sweet drink – so much decadence these days – and straightened my spine. A few deep breaths were bracing and gave me more time to avoid the inevitable. Rolling my shoulders one at a time – cringing at the ever present thrum and stitch deep into my left side, adjusting the cup to accommodate the adjustment, I took the few steps across the room. The only seat near him was an equally large leather chair positioned to face his to accommodate conversation, but with its back squarely open to the rest of the shop; not my first choice. I took another breath, closing my eyes just briefly to test the atmosphere and do a brief internal check, all seemed well, “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” it was horrible – an attempt at levity would have been wiser.

He looked up from his book – sketching not reading. Could have gone either way with him. His eyes shone blue as the sky and his face lit up like the very sun he’s always represented and a blush painted his cheeks and those already impossible pink lips.

“Bucky!” in what may have been one smooth move; he rose, took my cup and set it with his sketchbook on the table and pulled me into a hug before freaking himself out over his actions “I didn’t mean to invade your space – I was just so overcome” his face was the picture of joy so I couldn’t imagine asking if he was alright but somehow it came out anyway, “Hey there! Everything ok Steve?”

“Just happy to see ya Buck,” there was more to it but I left it for him to keep for himself. He sat back down.

“Ya just talked to me this morning;” I teased, reaching for my coffee. Its smooth sweetness didn’t quell the anxious thumping in my chest then I realized it was probably helping fuel it. “I wanted to talk to you, can we get out of here?” my back to the door; the things I needed to say; the five too many people in the shop all clamoring for me to get the hell out.

“Sure Buck. I’ve been camping out here so long; Aspen’s probably going to ask for rent.” He glanced at my full coffee cup, “but aren’t you just getting here?”

For his sake, I took one last draw from the mug before pushing it away, “I’m pretty wound up already, half cup should last me.”

He laughed, a warm and soothing sound, “Then I’ll follow you this time,” he said.

We both gave little waves to Aspen as we left, her Cheshire cat grin giving me the extra strength where it had started to flag yet again.

“She’s a minx.” He laughed when we were outside.

“A veritable siren is what that one is.” I joined the mirth – giggling for the first time in about forever.

We walked to Brooklyn Bridge Park in a kind of electric silence. Energy seemed to be buzzing around the edges of everything. He looked beautifully unburdened in the autumn sun. “how’m I gonna pull this off” kept rustling through my thoughts like the leaves at our feet. As much as I used to be able to charm a dame, he’s so much more.

I led him past the benches to the water’s edge, certain that I’d have no luck with this at all if I was forced to do it on a public bench. Our destination wasn’t secluded by any means but the cooler weather saw the area a lot less occupied than in the weeks before. I just stood there, enjoying the surrounding sounds and the ever more familiar feeling of his company.

“Bucky – I – you need to know I’m not stalking you.” He blurted out nervously.

“Why would I think that?”

“Showing up unannounced?” he looked puzzled.

“In a coffee shop? Steve, from what I hear, 1) it’s a public place and b) you were there first. Don’t be stupid.” I smiled “I wasn’t stalking you either – this time.”

“Bucky! That’s not even funn–“

“C’mon, it is – a little.”

“Not even a little.” But he was grinning.

I laughed at him, “Jeezus! I love you.” I said it with all of my heart, not even waiting for it to be trampled and handed back to me.

“Buck?” His voice nearly cracked, the look on his face – was it hope? Or did I project what I wanted to see?

“I said I love you, punk. All out in love with you since forever.” For some reason fucking with him seemed like the right choice, “You mean we never?” I feigned innocence but my heart could easily betray me if he was appalled at my very suggestion.

“Oh Bucky – God no but – Oh how I wish we had.” His face flushed.

“You mean that Steve?” my heart was bursting.

“More than I ever thought possible – but if you’re misremembering things?” he looked concerned.

“Nah – pullin your leg on that – I was always too terrified. Afraid you’d hate me or worse that you’d be harmed if you returned my feelings.”

“I couldn’t hate you Bucky. I coulda taken any shit anyone gave me. You should know that.”

“You’da tried – half as big as you are now” he slipped his right hand into my left, a warm feeling – not unlike when little Ellie had taken my hand – washed over me.

“Bucky, I never really knew that what I felt for you was – well, _this_. As far as I knew it was perfectly normal to love you as much as I do and honestly only realized today exactly what my feelings for you are about. I love strongly, Buck. I loved Peggy; loved/love you. I don’t think that if anyone ever told me either love was wrong I’d believed them.”

”I don’t just love you as a brother Stevie,” I put my palm on his smooth strong jaw, “I want you to be mine in every fathomable way. I want, like I’ve never wanted before, to kiss you senseless.”

“Well? What are you waitin’ for?”

I stopped his chiding by tenderly claiming those lips, just a tiny nip of possession then trailing my hand along his jaw, to the back of his neck. Needing to be ever closer, I pulled him in touching, teasing, ruffling the hair at the back of his head as he dropped my hand and wound all that arm around my waist, dragging me closer, our bodies crashing briefly as he deepened the kiss of his own volition. I’d never dreamed it would be so much better than all of the times I’d imagined it combined. He was skilled, if unpracticed. I let him take over. He was tenderly and punishingly slow in his exploration.

When we pulled away, his blush had deepened and his gaze pointed at my lips, “Aw Buck – so long ago – I thought it was idle curiosity but I wanted to try this so, so long ago.”

‘So now you tried it. What of it?” I grinned.

He kissed me again, lacing his fingers through my hair, I moaned into his mouth as our tongues engaged in their own lithe dance.

“You almost kiss better than Aspen.” He smirked against my lips.

“Yeah?” I broke contact, profoundly feeling the absence at just a breath away “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I smirked back at him, “That girl will kiss _anyone_.” I muttered in mock disgust.

He laughed deeper, harder than I think he’s allowed himself in a long time. I was thrilled that the sound wasn’t making me sad anymore because he was laughing with me.

We sat in the cool sand and watched the water rolling in and out over the beach, the quiet was so comforting. He leaned against me, “You used to do this when you felt particularly shitty.” I used to worry most when he let his guard down enough to do this.

“I wanted to do it when you felt shitty, when neither of us felt shitty.”

“I like now. You’re not all hot and sweating from fever, I can just enjoy it.” With that, he laid his head on my shoulder and I could have just sat like that forever.

“Y’know, I’m still a fucked up mess, right Steve? I don’t have a compete handle on things.”

“Buck – I never expected to heal what has been done to you with a few kisses. It’ll still be a long road, but y’know I’m with you –“

“’til the end of the line – I know I know.” I sighed in contentment, “It’s nice.”

 

* * *

 

Yesterday was the most beautiful day of my long, long life. Figures it would be punctuated by a shitty nightmare.

> Azzano; hydra’s factory, Zola and his fucking torture. I was too weak to move – why was I strapped in? I pulled at the restraints and the squat scientist’s laugh was just a little louder than the whispers of my uniform sleeves twisting with my struggle. There was no give. My wrists stung from the effort. I must have tried this before. I couldn’t even lift my head to see if there were marks there – but I felt them like fire. There was an even hotter fire though, surging through my heart and my veins. I coughed with the intensity. The burning from the needle was like a flamethrower. I jerked and seized, the laughter was smug and seemed to echo around me with its heightened volume. The fire lit through me again, my mind flashing “thank god Steve’s safe.” “He would never survive this.” I called out his name “Steve!” the laughter continued, the scientist’s face looming over me. The machine he had in mind for me next was worse than all the pain I’d felt yet. Some kind of blue fire in the corner of the room shot lightning through the room, into the wires connected to the machine gripping my head like a vice, causing me to lose control of all of my bodily functions – the laughter was derisive as the monster wrote things down in his ledger. I stopped fighting and welcomed the darkness.

I woke alone in my room, screaming and sweating. I struggled to catch my breath as I took in everything around me. Home. It was empty of all the things a home should have but it was safe. I was safe. I thought about the nightmare/memory. I didn’t want to – never want to – but the memory that followed was slightly better.

> The darkness receded upon hearing the name I hadn’t heard since shipping out, “Bucky,” was this real? I was hurting, strapped down and drugged, aching and frightened but the sunshine of one Steve Rogers lightened the dark. I was freed, still struggling to get control of my limbs, he helped me up. I was safe – he was? Bigger. How the hell? But it was him.

I sighed into my darkened room, “Steve”. We were both safe. I grabbed my phone.

                “Steve. I love you.” I sent the text.

                “Me too you Buck. Why are you not sleeping?”

                “Nightmare. I’m fine. Why ‘re you not sleeping?”

                “Thinking about today. You sure you’re fine? Wanna talk?”

                “Wanna sleep. Just needed to say I love you. Because I can.”

                “Ok. I love you too. Sleep sweet Bucky.”

I managed to fall back into a (thankfully) dreamless sleep after thinking over the text exchange. It was reassuring in its simple honesty and it was too long coming.

I don’t typically set an alarm, it’s jarring and the confusion still disorientating enough to be less than desirable, but I didn’t want to miss the coffee date. ‘’s a good thing I set this god damned thing’ I thought sleepily waking to it from a deep sleep. I probably would have missed my meetup with Steve and after last night I was really looking forward to it. My phone rang nearly as soon as I stopped the alarm, it was Steve.

“H’lo” I answered, rolling back onto my back.

“Good morning, grumpy.”

“’M not grumpy, just woke up. Mornin’ Sunshine.”

“You walking to the coffee shop or d’ya wanna ride?”

“M.mm,” I rubbed my neck, smiling, “Pick me up Rogers. That’s how you impress a date.”

“How long are you gonna need to get pretty for your date Barnes?”

“’M already beautiful. I’d like about 40 to be awake and human enough to mirror my outer beauty tho’.”

“Ok doll,” he laughed, “you got it. See you then.”

I sprung to action. If I could hear that voice – that laugh – every morning I might be converted to a morning person. I quickly took care of straightening my bedroll before I showered and cleaned up in a burst of excitement. It was definitely a feeling I haven’t experienced in a very long time. I’m still processing the sensation.

I heard the bike in the street, my heart leapt, I waited until I heard footsteps at the door and a knock; I’d been prepared “it’s open!”

When he stepped in I slipped my arms around him and kissed him before he had a chance to think. He laughed, “sneaky, Buck.” And returned my kisses.

“Let’s go.” I grinned, keeping my arm around his waist as we angled through the door. He closed it behind us with a click, I handed him the key for the deadbolt. “We go outside like this and you’re recognized, you’re out to the public.” I warned him.

“ **We** are. And so what? Who’s that going to hurt?” he kissed me again as we exited the building.

“Well, the press can be pretty ugly, I’ve seen.”

“We’ve been through worse, you and me. We can deal with the shit-storm that will come down. But hopefully not before coffee, come on…”

“Right, not before coffee.” I laughed with him as we tore off down the road. I _really_ enjoy the time I get on the back of that bike, sitting close, holding onto him like life depends on it (it might). It’s stupid, but I don’t care, I haven’t had the luxury of entertaining or expressing feelings and shit’s gonna change.

Our visit to the coffee shop was worlds different from the previous 3 visits. It was planned, we are looking at things differently and neither of us is running from anything. Where it was not different was Aspen/Willow – her name tag had changed again, to “Ember”,  I smiled and kissed her warmly, “Thank you, sweetness” I whispered in her ear, Steve took her arm gently tugging her from me to place his own kisses and low thanks and greetings on her neck. I wasn’t jealous, neither was he, this just is – with her. “Ember, huh?” Steve asked – “I’ll just call you sparky.” He grinned at his silliness.

“Nah, Stevie, she’s red hot, Ember’s good.”

“Jesus, I hope so, guys – that’s my real name. Although I was feeling it recently after all the energy from the other day. Looks like you two came ‘round… so how’s about (I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this) instead of kissing me you show me _your_ kissin’ skills?”

“I don’t know Ember (beautiful name gorgeous), Stevie here doesn’t like PDA.” I teased, the conversation from my building fresh in my head proving me a liar.

“Bucky’s losing it doll. Forgettin’ how I just told him minutes ago how much I don’t care who sees,” and with that he grabbed me around the waist and at the neck – assaulting my mouth and senses with the depth of his kiss, firm, demanding and as heady as a perfectly aged whiskey.

“That’s more like it, I like angsty boys but you two were breakin my heart, no sense letting all this love go to waste.” She chuckled from behind us. She palmed the small of my back as she passed to get behind the counter; “So, what can I fix for ya today?”

Turning to her without releasing me from his grasp, Steve answered first, “Breakfast for me, the special please with an Americano.”

“Cliché, Steve.” I laughed, leaning into his hip then pulling away to look into the pastry case. “I’ll have the Belgian waffle with fruit, extra cream. Black coffee today please.” I ordered, distracted by Steve and his laugh.

We took our seats by the window, preferred seating Ember called it. She’s a little crazy, I like that. The benefits for me to this seat were that the chair by the wall was available and the chair I’d sat in when Steve had needed backup was close enough that his not-knobby-anymore knee kept brushing mine. A sweet reassurance that I craved and he seemed to want enough to keep doing it. “You done teasing me about my waffle or do I get to hear more from you when you see it and start to get jealous that you didn’t think of it first?”

“I reserve the option.” He smiled, warming me even more than the sun streaming through the window.

“I’ll share if you don’t.” I bartered.

He licked his lower lip almost imperceptibly but I saw it, “It’s worth considerin’” I think is what he said; I was distracted by the little flick of tongue I was starting to think I’d imagined.

When Ember flitted past with our coffees, she touched Steve’s neck gently and he flushed, I shifted in my seat, feeling – for the first time in a very long time – heavily aroused. I’d been talking a good game when she was Aspen and Willow and could even imagine carrying out my promises. This was a much more primal feeling. One that in my younger years was never quite satisfied. I knew he tips and tricks from then, I prefer them to the drugs used by those hydra bastards to keep me from deviating from the missions; even if the cocktail they used was highly effective (and apparently pretty long lasting considering how long it’d been since I’d been so fucking hard). Now I employed several mental exercises to keep grounded and not tear through the place with Steve in hand, searching for any semi private spot where I could fuck him. It wouldn’t do for our very first time. Not acceptable.

I smiled at Ember as she came around to settle my coffee at my side and give my neck a quick brush with her fingers. “So glad you came back so soon; together” she said sweetly.

“You’re stuck with us. Great food and coffee; Fantastic service! If you could keep this seat open I might just move in.”

“I’ll move anyone for you doll, just say the word.” She promised turning to go back to the counter. She called over her shoulder, “food’ll be right out.”

“If you’re lookin for new digs, I’ve got room Buck.” Steve said softly. So softly I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it. When I looked at him, I saw the blush was back, I wasn’t imagining it. “I’m sorry Bucky, I shouldn’t have said that right out of the gate. It’s been on my mind for a while and just came out. I don’t want to pressure you with –”

“Steve, it’s ok. Something to think about; to look forward to.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t want too many things overwhelming us when we’re still figuring things out.”

“We used to live together, it shouldn’t be that odd Steve. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable about it.”

“Well we ain’t who we used to be so I don’t know how to do this.”

“How ‘bout breakfast first?” I asked as I saw Ember rounding the counter with our food. “And we can talk while we eat.” I imagined moving my meager one-room into his place; brightly lit rooms, blackout curtains for those times all that light might not be welcome. Him nearby when I had a nightmare or a bad moment, me being there for him through his. It all appealed to me so much but I’d be putting him in danger. I heard him thank Ember.

“What is it Bucky?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“Huh?”

“You looked so far away.”

“You know I can’t move in with you Steve –”

“It’s ok if you don’t wanna, Buck.” He looked entirely too disappointed.

“Steve, I **want to** but I can’t.”

“I don’t understand.” And I could see that he didn’t.

“I move in and your life goes to hell. With the government still after me and hydra not dead yet, I might just get you killed. Then where will I be Steve?” I didn’t intend for my voice to sound so strangled. Emotions betraying me are a foreign concept that I don’t have enough experience managing.

His hand went to my knee, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I said I’ve been thinking about it. Do you really believe I wouldn’t consider every contingency? I’m not just a big dumb guy; I’m not that reckless little guy either. I’m a tactician, a warrior, and if you think I wouldn’t protect you as fiercely –”

“I know you would Steve and that is the problem. I don’t fear for myself as much as I do for you. I can face anything. It’s because of all I went through and all I have to look forward to with you that I can face it. I just can’t be the reason that something takes you from me.”

“Then you might as well tell me to turn around, walk away from you entirely. Don’t call, don’t write and while you’re at it find some way to get to another planet. Better yet, Bucky, Thor can take you to another universe and I’ll **STILL** FIGHT FOR YOU. Distance or lack of it won’t “keep me safe”.”

“You’re still a stubborn shit.” I finally managed to take a bite of waffle.

“I had a good role model.” He smiled, his gaze lingering at my mouth.

“Another universe huh? I keep forgetting that you’re friends with an alien.” I licked whipped cream off a strawberry. “That where you get strawberries in November?” it still thrilled me that something so seasonal and just a bit extravagant as a strawberry was available. It’s this kind of thing that makes me realize how disconnected I’ll be no matter what memories I get to keep, no matter how “normal” I get to be after everything.

“You’d think it was other-worldly. Remember how quickly the berries would sell out at the market? We’d bug ‘em for weeks and practically camp out for some of the first bushels. Almost always sour!” he laughed after pulling a sour face as though the flavor were still lingering on his lips.

“Horrible! But we would gorge ourselves. Stalking the grocer for riper ones before they even opened the store!”

“And you charmed the grocer’s daughter into skimming some off the bushels and sneaking them out back.”

“Hey! I paid for ‘em. It was fair.”

“In cash? Or in kisses?”

“Yes?” I lifted my eyebrows and wiggled them at him in a way that was sure to make him laugh.

“I could always tell you’d both kissed her and snacked on some of the berries before coming home.”

“Yeah?” I smiled at his sweet, fond look.

“Bright red, swollen lips. Couldn’t blame ya tho’ on either count. And I still got to have some sweet, ripe berries.”

“I might have eaten two or three on those days but they were always mangled or bruised. I always saved the best ones for home, always made sure you got extras. You needed the vitamins and the food. Always half-dyin’ on me in November.” I smiled, “Figured if I overfed ya in June I could keep ya another year.”

He sighed, I looked over, “it’s nice talking about something and having someone understand. Who “our age” around here can relate to just what short-lived heaven strawberries used to be?” He snatched one from my plate and bathed it in cream. “Don’t get me started on cream! You remember our first time for that?”

I honestly couldn’t remember. I think this is the first time with him that I couldn’t share a memory we’d experienced together. It hurt but I wanted to know how he remembered it, what made him smile about the story so I encouraged him to go on; “Tell me, Steve.”

He faltered, it must have hit him too, but he recovered quickly, “We were in Europe, on a farm. My first experience; so vast and rural, and almost untouched by the war.

“We were invited by the farmer’s wife to come in and share their meal. You tried to decline because there were so many of us. You told her she was an angel which made her blush.

““If we could use your barn as shelter through the night, that’s all we’d need, ma’am.” You had her eating outta your hand. She had her sons – they were maybe 6 and 8 – rustle up some blankets and they led us to the barn, the boys marching alongside you and Morita, busting up about whatever you two were answering their bubbling questions with.

A few hours later we were all gathered outside the barn when the farmer’s lovely daughter and the boys brought out jugs of milk and some bread and jam. “Mother said we have extra of these and we are proud to share with you.”

There were thanks all around as everyone tore into the bread. She knelt near the jugs and started to skim the cream from the milk. You and me, we watched intently. She was fascinating but so was her process. “Have you ever had cream on your bread? It’s a favorite of mine.” She explained. She spooned some on both of our jam-coated bread pieces then shared with the rest of the boys. Even the little guys joined in, licking their chops and tryin to show off.

Oh **man** it was so **good**. You never stopped talking about fresh cream. I’m not surprised about Ember’s drinks or the waffles. So you, Buck. So 21 st century you.”

I thought about what he said, flavors tickling my taste buds at the heart of my memories, “Blackcurrant preserves, right?”

His smile could light the city, “Yeah. You loved it. Asked about it and we were packed up with a jar each when we left in the morning. I think it added to your complaint about not having fresh cream.” He was still smiling, either at the story he just shared or at my brief recollection then had an idea. He called Ember over, “you wouldn’t have any specialty jams in your magic pantry would you? Blackcurrant to be specific?”

“Not that one but I can have it in in a few days if you would like.”

“I’d like.” He smiled at her then at me.

“Consider it ordered!” she called out as she returned to help a customer at the counter.

“That was sweet.” I teased, warmed to the deepest part of my soul, “so sweet, Stevie.” I chuckled, putting my hand on his where it still rested on my knee. “Want half?” I pushed my half-finished waffle toward him on the coffee table.

“Thanks.” He grinned, “you were right. I wanted your breakfast more than my own.”

“I knew that about you.”

“What, you not hungry?” he asked, taking a big sloppy bite.

“For that mouth.” I heard myself saying before I could catch the words.

The way he rolled his eyes, rich whipped cream still on his lips, compounded the issue, forcing me to resort to more mental exercises just to calm the fuck down.

He leaned forward to set the empty plate down, pivoted to lean toward me, “kiss me Buck.” He teased, his eyes half closed, those pretty eyelashes shadowing his eyes. I took the back of his neck in hand, pulling him even closer than his deliberate position, and tasted the sweet cream and fruit on his breath just before our lips clashed and danced with varying degrees of pressure and tenderness and no shortage of urgency. “We keep this up, Steve, your coming out will be all kinds of public.”

“My place. We can be there in minutes.” He huffed into my ear as he nipped my neck.

“What are we doing?” I stopped everything, “do we even - ?”

“I love you. I’ve waited a lifetime to feel like this. You love me. You’ve craved this for longer than that.” He didn’t stop kissing, nipping, luring me in, “We are taking and giving exactly what the other wants. You want?” his hand trailed down the front of my shirt, I considered removing it as it neared my waistband but the lust/love mixture he was stirring up stayed my hand. He only hesitated briefly before palming the traitorous bulge in my lap. At that point I did take his hand but I just held it there while I thrilled and suffered with the pressure.

His face was pink again, but his eyes were on mine, slightly unfocused – or was that me?

“Fuck.” I bit on the word, breathing. Reluctantly I lifted his hand. “I do.” I inhaled a ragged breath, “I also need to wait. I need to know I can handle this.” I kissed his fingers, “I’ll tell you all about why – but you gotta know, it’s about me. I want so much to do just this but I need to work on self-control more. There will be a day, Steve. Soon – I promise – where we’ll get all worked up and take off to indulge.

“If we’re done here, I’d like to go someplace and tell you about it.”

He blinked away the lust – the best he could, I’m sure.

“It’s about recovery, Steve. Not about us having sex. I **want.** Do you trust me?”

He exhaled, another bundle of lust being checked, “I do. And I need you to trust me. So. As much as I don’t want to stop, I am. You have to know I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward –”

I had to interrupt this line of thinking “Wait just a minute. You’re not doing any such thing. I started this mess. Hey, let’s just get outta here, it’s getting too crowded to discuss it here.”

“Is my place ok? I mean if I promise we won’t do anything until you’re ready to.”

“I do trust you Steve. Besides, I gotta see that room I’m going to rent.” That replaced the kicked puppy look on his face and made me smile as we left.

On the ride to his place I kept a more respectable distance. The ride itself, with the help of the crisp air along with every mental image and exercise I could think of, went smoothly. I was back to a manageable level by the time we arrived at his building. It was modest but nicer than my neighborhood. The hallway was well lit, painted in light silvery grays with colorful artwork on the walls. This was a far cry from when we were coming up in Brooklyn.

I let out a low whistle, “Well Rogers, you’re doin pretty good for yourself, you sure you’re ok slumming wit the likes o’me?”

“C’mon Bucky.” He started to complain.

I bumped his shoulder with mine and met him with a grin. “It’s very nice Steve. Much better’n we really ever dreamed huh? Yeah, that I don’t miss.”

‘You’re a big fan of the 21st century huh?”

“What’s not to like? Oh I guess there are a few things but seriously?” I watched as he unlocked the door and entered cautiously. “Expecting company?” everything in me tuned to what might happen next.

“It’s a habit. Kinda like the chair by the wall, you know.” He shrugged.

“Yeah. I do.”

I lingered in the entry while he finished checking and put his things away, wavering between the ‘what am I doing here’ and ‘I’m excited to be here’ feelings. I moved further into the living room area noticing the library of books in a wall of built-in shelves. So many titles filled the shelves, from things I’ve read and reread to things on my list to read. There were shelves dedicated to books on history, military tactics, and martial arts. There were art books and framed photos. Photos of the two of us, the whole Howling Commando group, then there were pictures of Peggy and pictures of me. I was most interested in the picture of Steve smiling with his Avenger friends at the beach. “Is this from this summer?” I asked as he came to my right side and took my hand in his.

“Yeah, we played “escape life for a day”. It was good. I missed you that day particularly.” His grip tightened briefly then relaxed, and though I’m sure it was meant to be a reassuring pressure, I felt a little bit bad for not being there – so close to him that day. “let me show you the place. Not that it would take much, there’s one spot where we can stand and I can point out every feature. It’s small, but it works.”

I laughed; we both knew this place was bigger than any we’d ever dreamed of living in. “It’s great.” I reassured him, squeezing his hand as he’d done just a moment ago. “Feels like home.” It wasn’t a lie.

“I hope you mean that. I really hope that we’ve settled the ‘distance is the safest place for Steve’ debate, because I think this room,” he led me to one of the two small bedrooms, It was painted a soft, light brown, sparsely furnished with a bed by the wall with two side tables and a dresser under the window. “would be perfect for you to unwind in. It’s a rarely used guest room at the moment.”

I was right about the blackout curtains, they were open in the window, letting the afternoon light in. I imagined my things; here, there and over there and I felt more at home than I’d expected to ever feel again. I turned away, thinking about the sudden urge to “be home”, his hand slipped from mine, his voice thinly disguising the disappointment my turning from the gift had caused.

I didn’t mean to relay that message; I just wanted to think without the influences of images of “my room”, “So, how soon do you think is too soon for your hobo boyfriend to move in?” I turned, giving him my cheesiest grin.

“First – don’t talk like that. Second – do you mean it? You’ll move in?”

“Hey, something you don’t know about me, I was living on the streets. I can actually say I’m a hobo.”

“Were. Past tense. And you didn’t answer.”

“I haven’t seen the kitchen yet.” I put on my serious voice, “A guy needs pancakes sometimes, especially for dinner. Let me see your kitchen Steve” I grabbed his tiny fuckin’ waist (what happened there Erskine? How did those hips not catch up with the rest of him?) and steered him toward the galley style kitchen. He let me with a chuckle.

“So, the quality of my kitchen will make or break the deal, huh?”

“That and your cooking skills. Did those improve too, Captain Beefcake?” I planted a quick kiss on those plump amused lips he’d parted then closed while trying to decide to either form and answer or tell me to fuck off.

“I can get by. A hell of a lot better than I used to. I also have more and better ingredients. A **nd** decent recipes. I **can** follow instructions Bucky.”

“Yeah, instructions, just not **orders”** I teased, secretly glad of that one, actually.

“Always for you, doll.” He kissed me back. “So, now that you’ve seen the kitchen?”

“How soon, baby?” I saw him do the closest human imitation of chocolate melting and I smiled.

“Last month,” he purred into my neck instead of kissing it. I approve of Steve purring. I also put my hand softly on his shoulder and stepped back, putting space between us again but maintaining contact.

“I love you Steve. I just –” I tried to smile.

“I know. I do. I just –” he tried but failed to smile.

“Yeah.” It came out on a sigh. “will this change the whole moving in thing? Can I maybe wait until I’ve worked out my issue?”

“We’ll be fine. No need to wait if you don’t absolutely have to. I’ll do better. I’m just a – well a lot overwhelmed by feelings. I keep them in check all the damned time but I just can’t seem to keep them in lately.”

“You don’t have to with me. We are each other’s safe place, OK?”

“Sounds nice, but I don’t think with your recovery –”

“Steve” I interrupted, “I promise you, you are **part of** my recovery. Things between us need to be open so we can **both** recover. Don’t tell me you’ve had the time, taken the time to actually **recover** from everything. We haven’t been finding each other repeatedly for ‘no reason’. I’m **done fighting that**. Every time we do, it happens anyway, just fixes itself and really, that’s how it should be right?” I pulled him to me for a hug, I held on for life, for an agreement.

He grasped me tightly “Yes. That’s how it should be.” I heard his voice muffled in my shoulder.

“So, we came to talk about this. Let’s get comfortable so I can try to make this make sense.”

He led me back to the living room and we sat on the sofa, facing each other from opposite ends, both having a leg hitched up on a cushion, turned to one another.

“So. This might be rough; then again you might know the info from my files. I know you have files on me.”

“Yeah, I’ve memorized them back to front but you lived them. I’m sure the bits that you remember are a worse hell than my entire bank of knowledge from the files.”

“Specifically: treatment for optimum performance. Even taking from me what they did, they knew they couldn’t have the asset” he cringed and to spare him, to spare me seeing him I changed “they couldn’t have _me_ distracted by primal urges so they created a drug cocktail to keep me as vital as I could be but impotent. They had to test it on me of course. How much, how often, what kind of recovery time, you know, in case they needed me for a different kind of op. I was overdosed many times (it wasn’t life threatening), including the last. I vaguely remembered how it had felt at the time and to be honest I just thought that I no longer had the drive. When it came back months later I couldn’t function. I’d only just started functioning like a basic human being and then this hit and it was frighteningly debilitating for days. I tried to relieve it with men, with women, masturbation, not one thing – for fucking days – not a single thing alleviated it. If I had been [even remotely] having fun I wouldn’t complain too much.

"But it wasn’t fun. It was hell. I hurt people’s feelings with my rudeness and crass actions. I was careful physically – not to hurt anyone and to be safe myself – but that was the extent of my caring. I was a complete bastard. When I could think, I was disappointed in myself, a miserable fuck. There was one guy, Ember kind of reminds me of him in a way, he wasn’t as in it for sex as the rest, he was proud and he was caring. He recognized, in a way I guess, what was wrong. He ignored my arrogance and my harshness and tried, he tried telling me about some eastern practices, including meditation and how to get things under control. I wasn't listening so he left books as he left me alone. Alone I could do two things, try and try taking things into my own hands and read the fucking books. As I got into it, I started to remember some of the things I had done and practiced back when we were young and I couldn’t touch you. Those in combination worked to help me get past the withdrawal side effects… or maybe I was finally coming down. I don’t know but I do know that I’ve been resorting using the same practices recently, I’m afraid that the intense, almost uncontrollable arousal is because of something wrong in my brain. I **hope** it’s because of **us** but I’m afraid, Steve.

I’ve been able to keep it in check – I’m just – I don’t want to subject you to that asshole. And I never want what we have – what we do together to not be fun!

I need some time to prove to myself that I can rein in my desire, live my life, become aroused and correct it when it’s not the right time. If I can’t effectively correct the issue and live my life without hurting you, either physically or emotionally I won’t be worth anything to either of us Steve.” i hadn't lost him yet, he was looking at me with a combination of fury and anguish, I'm sure I know which was for me and which was directed at hydra.

“Tell me **everything** I can do to help. I need to know if _and_ when I can touch you and _how,_ since I’ve been all hands.” He blushed. “If I make things worse I need to know when it happens, I won’t be hurt.”

“Just be you. If I need space I’ll tell you. You haven’t done anything I don’t want and when I thought it would be too much for me I’ve told you. Now you’ll just understand what I need when I tell you again.”

“I just thought of something. You said it didn’t matter, guys, girls…” I nodded, wondering where he was going with the thought, hoping it wasn’t hurt feelings or jealousy, “you said it’s been happening again… with Ember and me?” I didn’t answer, hesitating, thinking, “– or was it just me?”

“I can’t deny a response to Ember – but it was nothing like” his face lit up like Christmas, “nothing like you, Stevie.”

“But you can’t be sure?” his smile faded a little.

“I **want** to be sure. Just a few days; maybe a little more. Can’t be too hard right?” I smiled, hoping to bring his smile back.

He was still stoic, “Right, I’ll wait for this, for you Buck. But **not** forever please; don’t make me wait too long?”

“I promise. Like I said; a few days or so. I just want to get an idea how this works, and we can get used to me being underfoot and everything. We’ll be so busy – no one will even notice the time.”

He was thoughtful for a minute and I let the silence hang there, “you’re probably right. Besides, we’re getting’ soft.”

“You think? Having feelings and expressing them is soft? I guess once that was the way of it, but it was wrong. I’ve already made the decision that I’m _not_ going to be trapped by **anything** ever again Steve, not even feelings.”

“Yeah? But can you still hold your own in the ring?” he was lookin’ pretty smug now.

“You challenging me Rogers? Last time we did this, I kicked your ass.” I regretted the words as soon as they escaped my mouth.

“I let you.” His smugness hadn’t faded and the challenge in his eyes was pure playfulness. It made me feel so much better about what I’d just said.

 “Ooh, them’s fightin’ words. Name the time and place.”

“Callin’ me out Barnes? As soon as we get to the gym we go.” He was up and crossing the room with a smirk. I resisted the urge to chase him and tackle him – instead stretched out my limbs and rose slowly.

“Bring it on jerk.”

Down at the gym, we sparred for quite some time and it was really great to be physically active again. I’ve been so focused on making a living and more recently on the emotional aspect of my life and I haven’t taken the time to really engage in the physical aspect of my life. I’ve really missed it. And I need to keep on it, because he pretty much kicked my ass. I’ve gotten soft in these last few weeks. I can’t afford that even if I am putting other things first, I can’t let myself get soft or I’m toast; so we’re going to be training regularly.

After the gym I stuffed a bunch of clothes and shit into a bag to take back with us, I guess I’ll gather the rest in the next few days. I’ve got a lot more shit than I started out with. It’s surprising but also kind of comforting. I can't believe we're doing this. I'm actually moving in with him.


	14. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's moved in with Steve. Working on settling into a new place with a hot roommate and previously set limitations.

Settling into a room with a bed was both enticing and a little bit daunting. First thing I’m going to need from my old place is my damned soft blanket. I wish I’d grabbed it, when I tried to go to bed without it, I struggled to sleep. Sounds ridiculous, but that damned thing is comfy. I’m sure that all the changes are part of it too; I’ve been wandering the place – trying not to wake Steve in the process – because I just can’t get to sleep. I really can’t believe I’m here, I like it, I do. I’m just too wound up, I guess.

I finally opted to turn on a lamp and sat down in front of the bookcase, looking for a title that might entertain me. As I glanced at the familiar titles, I skimmed the row of neatly placed books, pulling out _“The Last Hero” by Leslie Charteris_ and felt him at about the same time I heard him, “those are your books; I got them from Rebecca.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.” I tried to process the fact that I held this very book in my hands before, I didn’t look up, my eyes fixed on the cover as I pushed down the feelings rearing up from hearing about my sister.

“Wasn’t asleep, came out for a snack, you hungry?”

“I could eat. Couldn’t sleep either?” I followed him into the kitchen, the old hardbound book still in my hand.

“No – sleep and I aren’t often on speaking terms. Spent all those years sick – having my sleep interrupted by not breathing – at least not properly and now I have no illnesses yet I’m perfectly capable of suffering insomnia. Apparently brain doesn’t shut off very well.” He said, turning the stove and oven on, preparing a skillet.

“Too full of useless information?” I teased. “Like how to fix a midnight snack?”

“Yeah, that and the love of my life is part of my home now, across the way and I can’t go cuddle with him.” He looked shocked as he said it, I get the feeling Steve’s been saying a lot of things he wasn’t planning on saying today.

“Who said you can’t go cuddle with him? Point them out so I can talk to them. I’ll give them a piece of my mind, and maybe even drag them through a sparring session.”

“You already did that.” He said, combining ingredients, “the sparring thing.”

“You’re a damned fool. And what on earth are you making? Thought you were in for a ‘snack’?”

“Pancakes.” He grinned. “Someone made me want them today.”

“You make me a decent stack of pancakes and I’ll let you cuddle with me tonight.”

“What had you up, Buck?” He poured batter in the hot skillet, the scent mesmerizing me briefly, thinking back to when we were little kids with one of our mas fluttering around the kitchen to feed two starving boys.

“Silly things. Remember when we were small? When you were the tough one who told me there wasn’t a monster under the bed?” he looked at me curiously as I finished.

“Yeah, you remember that? You thought surely I was afraid too. I wasn’t and you punched me because I laughed.”

“I didn’t remember that part.” I frowned. “I’m always punching you, Steve.”

“It was nothing but a tap. You know you were always rescuing me. What was the deal about the bed, Buck?” He asked gently as he flipped the first pancake.

“There could be something worse than monsters.” I reluctantly confessed.

“Nope. That’s why I do a thorough check when I come home. Every time. Checking for the presence of “something worse”. You’re safe here.”

“And I forgot my blanket.” I sighed.

His smile was tender, “A particular kind? I’ve got extras besides what’s on your bed.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“No it is not. If there’s any damned thing you need, even if it’s a flower in your fucking windowsill, it’s not ridiculous.” He was emphatic as he removed the first pancake from the skillet and loaded it into the hot oven.

“It’s a soft, fuzzy blanket. I splurged on myself and bought an outrageously fluffy blanket and my sleep has been a little better.”

He’d just finished pouring the next pancake and rounded the counter to the bank of doors and drawers on the wall between the bedroom and bathroom and pulled out a purple blanket that looked quite similar to my blue one. “Your blanket for as long as you’d like. I have several – I find them comforting too.” He smiled as he handed me the blanket on the way back to pancake duty.

I buried my face into the softness for a moment, inhaling the clean scent of him. I took it and tossed it onto my bed and came back in.

“Actually, the cold weather settling in means it’s time for those blankets to be seen all over the place, I like to use them on the sofa when I’m reading or watching movies.”

I thought back to the thin quilts we used to have and the scratchy afghans we would load on top of them to keep warm, I wasn’t surprised that he was as fond of them as I was.

“We should have a snuggly blanket movie night soon, Bucky. I’ve seen quite a few movies recommended to me by friends but there are some pretty cool sounding movies that even I haven’t seen yet.” He finished as he put a plate of pancakes, a butter dish and a syrup bottle in front of me “No cream, sorry.” He grinned.

We ate pancakes and talked about blankets and memories and the book I’d set on the counter. “I read this about a dozen times, I think.”

He smiled at me, “Yup, and often aloud to me as we would try to warm up under those terrible blankets we used to have to stack higher than this plate of pancakes just to feel less cold.”

“We shouldn’t complain about those blankets. I conned, stole and bartered for them to keep you from getting another bout of pneumonia.”

“I know we shouldn’t but I’m gonna. They were nothing like these soft and warm things. But we had nothing of the like to compare them to and they did do the trick. All that said, you won’t see a single afghan or thin quilt in my place though.”

He was right, my bed was covered with a thick comforter that I’d have killed for back before I knew what killing was all about. Just to keep him safe from death’s door.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah – I’m ok. Weird, dark thoughts.”

“That doesn’t sound ok – I might understand though.” He touched my hand, and I held onto his, “care to share?”

“It’s just – killing, I think about having done it like it’s a normal thought. That shouldn’t be a normal thought. Thinking about the blankets, and how when we were younger and poor as hell I might have actually killed for an extra blanket. Before I knew what killing was – how it felt when it became part of who you were – I might have killed to have a comforter like you have here now to keep you from getting sick again.”

“I know you must have felt very strongly about when things got desperate. I know how I felt when I lost you and when I found you but you were still lost. Killing for someone you love is a very visceral and passionate (not in the healthy way) reaction to a very horrible situation. It’s probably normal to have conflicting feelings about this kind of thing. We’re not terribly normal but hold onto that – your feelings may seem outrageous but they’re pretty normal in the grand scheme of things.” As he finished, I squeezed his hand before letting it go.

“Eat your pancakes.” I half-teased, taking another bite. “Thanks, Steve. I warned you I was kind of a mess still.”

“I know you did. I’m not the picture of pristine virtue the world has painted me to be either. I’ve got some of my own baggage and issues. We’re going to have an interesting time.” He half grinned before shoving the last of his pancakes into his face. “But we’ll do it together.” He said around the mouthful. My stunning, rude Brooklyn boy, how I love him.

I matched his giant bite and grinned fully at him, almost making him spit pancake bits – he managed to contain his laughter until the food went where it was supposed to.

I gathered the dishes and washed them while he picked out a movie “No monsters or killing in this one, I promise – ” [I heard an added mutter, I thought he said “or hardly any” but I discounted it, I trust his choice] and pulled out more blankets. He tossed the folded softness in a pile on the extra-large sofa and came back to help dry the aftermath of his cooking. “Thanks for cleaning this mess up. I’m good with the food, but the process can get a little untidy.”

“It was a nice process to watch. Your skills have improved in the kitchen.”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m just a recipe follower, even if the recipe is in my head. But nobody will die from my cooking.” He flicked my ass with the towel he had just finished using and I rounded on him and grabbed his hips gently, pulling him toward me for a kiss. “Careful there, Barnes… this is a quiet movie night, none of that grabby business.” He teased. The reminder of my request was a sweet and sour mix.

“I can kiss you. I set the rules, remember?” I repeated my attempt to kiss him, with better success. His arms closed around my shoulders, sliding up to my neck, and we lingered that way after the kiss faded. He put his forehead to mine and we breathed each other in for the briefest moment.

“So, what monster free movie are we going to watch?” I asked as he untwined his arms from my neck. I heard his breaths catch as he turned and tried to compose himself, I smiled to myself as I worked to manage my own breathing.

“You’ll hate me if I tell you, better if you just let it start playing. You can get a feel for it that way. You can learn to love it.”

“I don’t play that way, what movie? C’mon it’s not like I’ve paid any attention to any movies anyway, I won’t have any preconceived notions.”

“The title will make you want to punch me,” He grinned, “but I guarantee you’ll love it.”

“So you’re telling me that you expect me to do the equivalent of judging a book by its cover? Me? The one who sees things at their true value? Skinny boy? Tell. Me. The. Title.” I tried plucking the remote control out of his hand, but he was too fast.

“Ok, but you asked for it.” He plopped down onto the sofa, “It’s really a good movie. It’s got ‘fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, miracles...’ Ok so I lied about the _monsters_ Buck, we need to watch this movie together. You. Will. Love. It.”

“The Princess Bride?” I asked, smiling as he got through quoting the script – grinning as he apologized for the monsters.

“You’ve seen it?” his face fell briefly “Oh well, so have I but not together.”

“I haven’t seen it. I read the book – sat in the library and read the movie version cover to cover one day. Thought they were going to kick me out for loiterin’ but I might have frightened them. I was having a dark couple of days. I was a hobo mess.” His smile when I said I hadn’t seen it lit up like Christmas, he took my hand and pulled me down to the sofa next to him.

“You’re going to love this.” He crowed as he queued up the movie and I pulled a blanket over the two of us as I settled in against his side.

“You memorized some of the movie?” I asked.

“You recognized it from the book?” he countered.

“Shut up punk, the movie’s starting.” I teased, pulling his hand into mine as I’d wanted to do in so many darkened theaters. As I got more into the movie, I settled down closer to him, fitting my body into the spaces and curves, and he put his arm around me, settling every nerve that was coiled to jump, settling me as he barely tightened his hold.

 

 

We both barely made it through the movie, both falling asleep as the credits rolled. I was trying to thank him for the movie, yawning as I hunkered down closer to him; his murmured sound might have been affirmation or just sleepy noises. Waking up as the sun streamed in from the kitchen window, I stretched; he smiled in his sleep as I made a break for the bathroom to avoid tempting either of us with how easily my best laid plans to not get laid could be obliterated.

The shower was long and hot, steaming up the small room, untying kinks in my muscles one by one. When I was done, I wiped an area of steam from the mirror and entertained again, the idea of shaving. Would he touch my face as eagerly and tenderly if it were bare? Or was that reserved for the stubbly growth? I decided change was in the air, I might as well embrace it fully. And if there were regrets in this choice, at least it would grow back in a matter of days, so where was the loss?

I took long enough to consider and then longer again to actually shave, by the time I was finished, the room had cleared of condensation and the humidity had dissipated. I kicked my legs into my sleep pants, grabbed up my tee shirt and opened the door to a sleepy Steve standing at the door, rubbing his neck and yawning. “Sorry if I took so long in the shower.”

“I just got up, was about to knock and see if you were hungry. I’m thinkin’ about skipping the run today in the interest of helping you get the rest of your stuff moved in.” he moved aside allowing me to step out.

“I was starting to think about food, yeah. That’d be great, all of it.” I found myself smiling again. “Seems we both fell asleep on the couch, you sleep ok?”

“Yeah-actually I slept great. Most sleep I’ve gotten at one time in a while.” He kissed my cheek lightly, “’m gonna go try to wake up with a shower – if you think you left me any hot water?”

“You might be ok by now.” I pulled him closer for a real kiss. It was lazy but brief and as I aimed to pull away, his hand came to my jaw with a tender swipe.

“Buck, you shaved? You look dashing.” He grinned softly, putting both hands on either side of my face and pulling me in for another kiss, his thumbs exploring the smoothness of my cheeks, making me curve ever so slightly into him.

“Y’like it hmm?” I mumbled into his lips, feeling them tremble trying to both smile and continue their assault. I casually nipped the fullness of his bottom lip to keep him on task. The kiss stayed low and slow, like the lazy morning it was proving to be until eventually he put a hand on my chest and dramatically pushed me away.

“I’m hittin’ the shower. Then I’ll see what damage I can do in the kitchen.” And he just as dramatically rolled away into the bathroom and closed the door.

I was smiling as I flung my shirt over my shoulder and headed for my room to put it where it belonged.

I decided I liked the sound of kitchen damage so I went to scope out the layout properly since all I’d done the night before was eat and wash dishes. First things first, put away the dishes that had been dried but not put away. Finding their spots, learning where things were. Next up, I checked the icebox – the refrigerator – for ingredients for some kind of breakfast.

I was midway through the basics, fried potatoes, eggs and bacon when he came out, a song on his lips, toweling his hair into a fluffy array of sunbeams. He might as well not be wearing a shirt for what he had on, but I wasn’t in a place to complain since I was roaming the kitchen in just my sleep pants. He whistled low as he came in – “Mmm… smells great Bucky.” He pulled some things from the refrigerator then started cutting and slicing an avocado. We worked together in the small space like a well-oiled machine, reaching over or around one another when necessary. He shimmied behind me to make coffee and I couldn’t resist wiggling my ass on his. He whirled around so fast it should have been scary and grabbed my hips. “You might wanna **not** do that.” He growled into my neck as he nibbled it from behind.

“You’re right, we might wanna not…” I exhaled the breath I’d held. “I’m sorry Steve. I wasn’t even thinking. I’m not being fair to you.”

“No, no you’re not. The _teasing_? Save that for another day.” He put his arms around me and hugged, leaning his head on my shoulder. “You might wanna put a shirt on too.” He mumbled.

“I’m on it. Watch the eggs?” I pulled away, his arms slowly unfolding from around my waist. “’m sorry Steve.”

“Don’t apologize.” He called out as I’d disappeared into my room.

For just a moment, I sat at the foot of the bed then flung myself backward, thinking. “You’re being unfair you miserable jackass” I muttered, “you can’t keep doing things like this, stop fucking with him or start fucking him” feeling properly chastised, I dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee. Opting to keep my feet bare – that was a safe zone right? – I returned to a plate of breakfast complete with juice, fruit and sliced avocado.

“Steve. I – “

“I said don’t apologize.” He smiled. “I’m not worried about it. I’d considered doing something similar and was actually afraid to try. It’s just not time. I am liking the kissing though. A lot.”

I smiled – feeling mostly reassured. We had comfortable breakfast conversation, from discussing the game-plan for moving the rest of my things to what we might want to do with the rest of our day. I like that we’re making plans and I like the idea of taking time to be with him. I do still have to get some work done, I actually have people counting on me, maybe that’s what I’ll do at night when I can’t sleep.

We got the stuff from my old place – feels odd to say that. Good, but odd. I had very little trouble putting everything away, which eased my worries about taking over the space. When I said as much he groaned, “you aren’t taking anything over, you’re home Bucky. You have books, there – on the shelf. They’re yours, this home is yours. I want your things to bleed over into all of the spaces.” He put his arms around me, “I want to come in and see you living here, your things reminding me that you are here. I want to see your jacket on the chair or the things you’re working on lying out mid-project on the table.”

I hugged him tightly, “I’m sorry – I’ve been on my own for so long and I just” something inside me broke, tears fell unbidden “– well before that I was trapped and there was nothing and –”

“Bucky, it’s ok. I know. You’re home. Don’t apologize and don’t worry.” He put his hand on the back of my head as I buried it in his neck and cried. He didn’t tell me to stop; holding on and comforting me with his strength and the motion of his hand making circles on my scalp, soothing and being my support. “You are home, Buck, and you’re going to be just fine.” He kept repeating softly.

“’M sorry I’m such a mess.” I sniffed as I finally stopped blubbering.

He pulled back just slightly to look at me, “you definitely are.” He smiled, wiping tears from my face with a tender touch. My old fashioned boyfriend pulled out a clean and pressed handkerchief and handed it to me. “Clean your face.” His smile grew stronger. “You ok now?”

“I guess.” I wiped my eyes tucking the handkerchief into my ass pocket, “What the ever loving hell was that all about?”

“Emotions are a bitch. You were overwhelmed with them. That’s my not-so-scientific guess.” He stepped back letting me have a little space. I wavered a little at the withdrawal of contact then found my footing. “You sure you’re ok?”

“No. But I’m working on it. I am going to be fine though. That was quite the impassioned speech Steve.”

“I meant every word.” He sat on the edge of the sofa cushion, “I’ve been lost and alone with a whole lot of nothing that was mine. I came out of it with things they thought I should have. You came away with nothing and you built everything we just brought in here with your own two hands and your wits. You just left your one place of comfort – which you found for yourself and created a home from. You’re entitled to emotions about it and you need to know that you’ve moved into a new home. That” he pointed to my room; “is not the guest room. That is your room. It’s your space to do with as you wish.”

I walked over to the sofa and sat next to him, “I’m still a fucking mess.” I said as I ran my hands through my hair, exasperated at the way I was feeling. “So. I’m a crier now?”

“If you need to be.”

“How ‘bout you? You’re always so stoic, do you ever just – ?”

“Nope.” He turned his whole body to face me, hiking his leg up on the sofa. “I haven’t allowed myself. I wish I was as strong as you, strong enough to just let it go.”

“I don’t ever think of it as strength, but as brokenness.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of his, and the flash that crossed them didn’t escape me. “I’m open to new ideas about it though. I’m all about new ideas.”

He smiled wide, “You always were. So, the move is done, you clearly have things to finish – how about I let you do some work, start setting your routine and we can go out and get some dinner tonight?”

“Are you asking me out on a date Steve?”

“A date, yes, I am. Will you go out to dinner with me tonight?” he just brushed his hand on mine.

“Our first date, how sweet.” I turned my hand over, took his hand lightly into it, running my thumb over the back of it, “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you.”

His smile softened, warming me through, completely draining the remainder of the emotional turn I’d just taken. “Ok, then I’ve got plans to make. You have any ideas? I’d thought we might plan this event together.”

“That’s not a date Steve.” I teased, “You figure this one out. I’ll plan the next date.” He basically disappeared for the rest of the afternoon; I set about making up for the last couple of days so that I could get the two laptops completed before I lost the only income I have.

When he came in, I was just cleaning up the second of the two laptops, my things were scattered and at some point I’d dropped a tool. He stooped to retrieve it “you taught yourself how to repair and build computers?” the touch of awe in his voice warmed me.

“Yeah, I had a basic understanding of a lot of it from certain missions. Tools taught – those I could keep. The other stuff – memories and the like, that would get in the way. The tools would come in handy in future missions, don’t waste time erasing things you don’t have to… their science is nasty.

“So, I spent a lot of my hobo hours in the library, reading, learning, using the computers there. I decided that I needed a computer to work the hydra shit, I’d felt very exposed trying to use computers in the library for that. I did it successfully but I didn’t like it, so I found out how to and what I would need. I learned a lot about a lot of it. When someone I got some parts for my computer from asked me if I knew how to fix this or that I lied. I said yes, took their laptop; found out how to fix it and took it back to them for cash.

“Getting the word out was the tricky part but with a generic email address and with word of mouth from each new person, it started to pick up. The older folks don’t get it, don’t like replacing shit but don’t know how to fix it, so they’re the ones who spread the word to their friends. It kinda got easy to chat up the grandmothers at the computers in the library, “don’t have one of these at home huh?” and a smile-I’ve been told I have a cute smile; more often than not I’d hear “oh, my machine just stopped working on me. I don’t know what to do about it, but I need to see my emails.” Lots of talk of not wanting to lose pictures of grandkids. So I’d give them my email and phone. “Free pickup and delivery within a certain area.” I’d tell them.”

He listened intently, and when I realized I’d run on “Sorry, what a blabbermouth, huh?”

“I enjoy hearing about it. Seems like you really like it.”

“It’s ok, I really have to get out of myself to do the self-promotion part of it. Not my favorite but I’ve been able to pay my way – better than odd jobs which I was doing before.”

“What would you really want to do? Once the government is squared away and if the military clears you would you go back?”

“No. I don’t want to. I’ve been thinking about teaching actually. I don’t know when the idea came to me but it’s been hanging around in the “what does a future look like” topic.” He looked surprised but pleased, “I think teens or young adults. I don’t know, that’s not something I’ve even let myself consider too seriously. I don’t exactly know how well I can teach from prison.” There went the pleased look.

“Dammit Bucky!” he slammed a fist on the stone countertop, his voice level but furious, “That’s not going to happen!” The rage was a cover for fear. I saw it in his eyes.

“You don’t know that.” I returned in a level voice. “We don’t know that Steve. Whatever is going to happen, we don’t yet know how it will play out.”

He turned away, “you’re a fucking hero. A fucking victim.”

I approached him carefully, putting my hands on his shoulders carefully, tenderly. I rubbed the tense muscles, kissed the soft fuzz at his hairline. “I’m lots of things Steve. I’m also guilty of terrible acts.” I put my arms around his broad shoulders, my head on his back. “We’re going to have to face that and the possibility. I can face this – I’m glad I don’t have to alone.” I felt when he resigned himself by the exhale of breath and the release of tension in his muscles under my cheek. “If you want to postpone our date…”

“Don’t even try it Barnes,” he turned around slowly in my arms, putting his arms around my waist. “You’re going on a damned date – you’d better get cleaned up.” He kissed me softly. His eyes were still troubled, his smile tentative. I pulled him closer holding on to give him what I could in support.

“I love you, you hothead. Don’t get so tied up over this, you mentioned once that you have contacts. Maybe we shouldn’t tempt fate much longer. You are harboring a fugitive. I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m not going to entertain any more thoughts on this tonight. Tomorrow is a new day. I’ve made plans for dinner and we’re going to go forget about everything for a few hours.”

We did exactly that, put the hard stuff away for another day. I took extra care in dressing. Pressing my best button-up and trousers. Thank god for Sam’s little care package or I’d be in a slouchy but oh-so-cozy sweater or something, I thought, pulling on the trousers. Pressing a shirt brought with it a comfortable ritual feel – the fragrance of the warmed detergent and cotton was familiar and welcome. Pulling it on, I breathed in the scent and let the residual warmth of the freshly ironed softness surround me. I slipped into the bathroom unseen and combed and tied back my hair. I considered the cologne on the counter – an ingredient to Steve’s scent. I sniffed lightly, smiling, and put it back. He’d have to take me as I am, shampoo, detergent and cotton warmed by a lazy iron.

I looked at the face looking back at me, bearing very little resemblance to the one from my nightmares. This face was a bit more used, a little more rugged, but the eyes weren’t swimming in unshed tears. The lips were hopelessly optimistic with a near smile instead of pouty and trembling with despair. The jaw was just as smooth, eyes brightened by a freedom that was denied so much earlier than captivity. Rugged but hopeful, I smiled my approval and there were no tears taunting me. I liked this face.

I was met with a long, low whistle as I stepped out of the bathroom. “You look Damn-Fine Buck,” making my face heat and my smile widen.

“Well ain’t you a charmer?” I grinned and looked him over openly and appreciatively. “Pretty fine lookin’ yourself.” I relished in the blush that flooded from his face down his neck into the buttoned up front of his shirt. “So, where are you taking me Rogers?”

“So very impatient, I thought that was my thing.”

“Curious. Excited. Terrified.”

“No need, it’s safe.” How he zoned in on that particular slip spoke volumes about how well we’d both managed to actually push aside the bigger problem.

“Let’s take our chances, should we?” I focused on my excitement, showing all of the things that would have me stay in hiding just how much I meant it when I said I won’t be trapped ever again. My tentative smile made him smile which caused my own to widen into a grin with giddy excitement. I’m besotted.

We went out for a quiet dinner in a trendy restaurant with a cozy atmosphere and food that was out of this world. The best part of it all was that we were together. I could have been anyplace with him, to be able to touch and hold hands across the table. To hear him laugh at something I’d said and to listen to stories he’d told. He really loves his friends. I can see it in the softness around his eyes when he talks about them. Even when his jaw tightens at talk about this thing or that regarding Stark, it doesn’t reach his eyes. The softness there remains, the frown never meets that spot between his eyes that can furrow and proclaim his displeasure. He retold stories, only focusing on the positive, likely because he was chasing anything negative away.

Our agreement to ignore the troubles held fast as we talked more about what could be, about me teaching. “I really blame you for the idea. It was your doing you know, telling me about the workshops for the veterans. It made me think deeper into what I could have.”

“You have a great mind for it. You can learn so much so easily and I bet you could really inspire people. Your storytelling voice is a bonus as is your ability to call ‘bullshit’ and recognize the good qualities. You inspired me. Still do.”

“You’re trying to make me blush.” I teased.

“I’m trying to tell you something important, jerk. You are the light in the fucking darkness and if I can see that, so many kids will too.”

“Now Steve, that’s your role.” I took his hand, gently, rubbing circles across the back of it.

“Not to me. You are my light, Buck.” He squeezed my hand, his eyes shimmering with tears.

“The feeling’s mutual, ya sap,” I smiled, my own eyes feeling a little misty.

“Well, Barnes – you’re in some serious trouble if you think that about me.” He sighed.

“No, Steve. I know you. You’ve always been a shit, a real pain in the ass. But you are the light in my life. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be you know, we see the best in each other and it makes us want better for ourselves.”

“Recovery has made you very vocal you know. You talk a lot, Barnes.”

“Maybe you’re right. You want me to stop?”

“No. I like what you have to say. Talking is the purpose of tonight, right?”

“Talking, eating, not talking, and just being present. Maybe going out dancing?” I grinned. “You’re not planning on packing it up immediately after dessert are you?”

“You wanna go dancing? We’ll go dancing.” He smiled indulgently and I offered him a chance to get out of it.

“We could always save that for our second date.”

“No, I’m not ready to go home yet and I know how much you used to enjoy dancing. We should see if we can enjoy it together.”

We left the restaurant and he took me to a club where the music was loud and the floor was packed. I thought for sure he’d reconsider and wander back out of there, but he pulled me along to the dance floor with mischief in his eye.

He pulled off a couple of outrageously erotic moves before pulling me close, wrapping an arm around my waist and he did no less than gyrate along my body in the least outrageous, most fucking erotic way, causing me to check my breathing. His hair was mussed, his eyes were dark and his smile was like magic. I wasted no time responding to his moves, meeting and matching them, marveling in our rhythm and that of the music thrumming through the air and vibrating along the floor into our bodies. Each time our hips met, the tightness was more pleasurable and tormenting. I remained mindful and before things threatened to get too heated, pulled him along to the bar, “I need a drink Stevie – you look parched too.” I called into his ear over the noise.

His gaze lingered on my lips – “yes, parched.” He agreed half-heartedly, pulling me in for a kiss. The heat of the dancing and the room were mirrored by the kiss, our lips and teeth and tongues clashing and doing their own dance – not quite as rhythmic and methodical as our dance. The pull of his teeth on my tongue, my lips, threatened to drown me and I responded with more of the same. Kissing him was like breathing under water, impossible and beautiful and mystical. “Drink,” he mumbled on my lips, trying to remind me why we were being pressed up against the bar by other thirsty dancers. I ordered two whiskeys wasting time and money by having them on the rocks – the cold would do well in the heated room. We took our drinks to a recently vacated table and heaved ourselves into the chairs with a laugh. “This was a great idea Buck.”

“I’m back to ‘Buck’ huh? I was ‘Barnes’ at dinner… I guess that’s your pissy name for me?” I teased. “Where on earth did you learn to dance? You’re fucking amazing.”

“Comes with the training, I guess. I improvised some,” was his smug reply as he took a long drink. “I’m still thinking of a pet name for you…”

“Profanity comes to mind for you.” I enjoy his teasing but enjoy taunting him more. The desired result was achieved; a blush. Score one for me. We had a few more dances and a couple more drinks before heading home, light headed from the activity and the heat and passion. Once inside the apartment, he kissed me at the door to my room, a lingering sweetness, flavored by his passion and the whiskey. It took a bit of conscious control to not pull him through the door but I resisted. Taking note of my ability to get through this night of temptation, I proudly started counting on the idea that another date just might end that way.

“Good night Bucky. I loved dancing with you. Sleep well.” He yawned, pulling away slowly.

I pulled him back for another soft kiss “I love you.” I kissed him again, “Good night and thank you for the incredible date. Next one’s on me. You up for a rematch in the morning?”

“Yeah, you tell me when. I’m sure I’ll be up before you.” He smirked, “You’re welcome and I love you too.”

It took a week of jobs to plan and pay for our second date. I may have gone overboard but nostalgia ain’t cheap. And he’s worth it.

I’ve had a few nights of uninterrupted sleep and some where I just couldn't shut off. The first night that I struggled with sleep, I wandered out to find a book. Steering clear of the combat/tactical fare of my Spartan boyfriend, I opted for one of the books on my ‘to read’ list and took it back to my room. The next time sleep eluded me, I finished the book so the third time it happened I had to head out to find a new book. I sat on the sofa to see if this one would have some traction. I was immediately drawn in and at some point I must have fallen asleep there on the sofa to it because the next I knew I was trying to hide my eyes from the sun. I need to remember to close those curtains at night. It was still quiet in the apartment and I not only had the one blanket under me on the sofa, but the second, which had been on the chair, was over me. I smiled (been doin’ that a lot) at the idea of Steve covering me in the night, or as he left for his run. Either way, I hadn’t heard him and rather than be worried over letting my guard down, I wondered when I’d decided I didn’t need to have it up?

Food called to me – or could it be the desire to cook? I’ve really been enjoying creating (and co-creating with Steve) meals. Real food (a luxury I hadn’t had for a long time – even in my small place) and the science and artistry of combining different elements to warm, nourish and even elicit delight was as freeing and cathartic as any of my other exercises. Yet another reason the technology of today wins my vote – cooking videos! Steve has his recipes, I have my video chefs. It’ll be a cook-off before you know it.

I had hoped he’d be back before food was completed but when his regular time passed and I still hadn’t heard from him I started to get curious. I sent a quick text: “you off on some adventure somewhere?”

Instead of a reply, I heard his door open and “Nope. Strangest thing, I slept in.”

“You don’t look all sleepy eyed.”

He moved in for a good-morning kiss, “You don’t look like a chef.” With both hands on either side of my face, he ran his fingers through my hair, kissing me again. “You really should try cooking with your clothes on.”

“I’m wearin’ pants.” I taunted, leaning closer to him and nipping at his lip, “Y’got nothin’ to complain about.”

“’s’not safe.” He turned away to get dishes and pour coffee, “you could get burned.”

“Such a worrier,” I put my arms around his waist, “I’m just fine.”

He turned slowly in my grasp, fiercely pulling me close, “You could get burned.” He growled on my mouth with his crushing kiss, his arousal stirring me regardless of the fabric layers between us.

I put my hands on his arms, just barely applying pressure to the biceps, acknowledging, reassuring, gaining my composure, and stepped back. “Fair enough.” My voice dragged out in a smoky, lazy rasp.

His arms dropped from around me and he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

“No need. I’m the sorry S.O.B. for being a tease and an inconsiderate one at that.” I went to get a shirt with a small smile. I was 98 percent certain that we’d both be ending our suffering after our date, so I kept with the plan. I did mention that Nostalgia ain’t cheap?”

When I came back in, as usual, food was on the plate and coffee was poured, “You’re too good to me.” I told him. “And terribly tolerant.”

“Well, you keep feeding me like this; I’ll continue to be tolerant.”

“You have a deal. Cooking is very therapeutic. So, are you ready for our date today?”

“More than ready to know what you’ve got up your sleeve. And to go out with you again.”

“Surprise buggin’ ya? I can tell you now if you’d like… for a favor.”

He was so curious about my plans that he’d just about agree to anything for me, “Sure Buck, name it, just end the suspense.”

“Well, on our way to Coney Island, I’d like to drive you there on the bike.” The degrees of smile I experienced were worth the entire cost of the date.

“You’ve got a deal. Coney Island huh?” he was still grinning.

“You approve?”

“I shouldn’t. But yeah, I approve.”

“What? I’ve heard all of your exploits by now, you worried about a little roller coaster still?” I winked and we both chuckled.

We were finished with brunch and out the door before the hour was up, both dressed for a cool day to be spent outside. Our ride was brisk and he kept any contact respectable, I really was going to have to let him know his suffering was going to end. Driving with him, even in weekend traffic, was freeing. I wanted him to sit closer, hold me tighter, but the day was only just starting, and I really wanted it all, the date and later so his control was welcome in the wake of my waning lack of it.

I practically dragged him through the entrance, trying to remind myself over and over that the day was just beginning, but oh! look here! Steve, come see this! He would follow, or run to keep up and would smile or laugh or just simply agree when I asked if this wasn’t the best thing he’d seen, about 20 times. I know I was off the charts with excitement, and I could have maybe been going overboard, but each time I was over the top with the emotion, he would smile that smile and I was overcome again.

I didn’t feel like myself, but on the other hand I did. I’ve spent so much time inside my own head, controlling my emotions, and so much time before that without my own control over any of it, that when I gave myself permission to feel and experience life – I guess I’m really taking myself pretty damned seriously, because the way I was feeling on this day was like I was a kid again.

We hit ride after ride, teasing and tormenting each other about them before and after. I probably to dragged him into one too many shops but he didn’t seem to mind. I eventually managed to convince him that we both needed Brooklyn Rock tees; “Come on Steve, it’s perfect! Look at this art!” I wiggled my eyebrows at him to emphasize just how right it should be that he should have an artist’s shirt. “And don’t you think this one” I pointed out a shirt with ‘Keep Brooklyn Offensive’ across the front, “is perfect for me?!” to which he rolled his eyes, picked up the shirt I’d shown him for himself and pushed it at me with the “offensive” one I was holding. Then he turned away laughing, I could tell by the movement of his shoulders… he’s not that tricky. “I’m going to buy you something else too if you keep laughing at me.”

Bastard flipped me off. I bought him a second shirt.

As any good park should be, the place was loaded with sweets. Because I was not through behaving like a giant child, we had to sample a little of everything.  As the sun was setting I made the most delightful discovery, Nathan’s was still there – why did I not know this and why did it hit me so hard? I practically melted into the nostalgia, and he laughed so joyfully at me that I wanted to experience it all over again just to hear that joy repeated.

Just as everything started to shut down for the night, I decided it was the perfect time for cotton candy, “Bucky, your sugar rush is going to make you crash so hard.” Steve protested, but with laughter in his voice.

“Come on, what soccer mom have you been hanging out with? It’s cotton candy!! You know you want some.” He took a big wad when I offered it and let it melt on his tongue bit by bit, teasing me in the process. “You have very sweet lips already Steve.” I kissed his candy coated lips, tasting the sweetness and the deliciousness of him mingling. He pulled me to him, kissing me deeper, languidly pulling on my lips, tongue with his. I wanted to arch into him I wanted to step away, what I really wanted was to leave, “Steve, we should go.”

“We’re having fun aren’t we?” he kept nipping at my lips, licking my own cotton candy mouth.

“Yes,” I all but growled onto his mouth, “but if we go home, we can do more of this.” I pulled him closer by the neck, holding him firmly in my space, pressing my body to his finally and kissing him deeper, “And more.”

“Mm-more…” he breathed onto the side of my mouth, trying to look at me but not pull away, “yes more…” he nearly pleaded as I felt him arch into me, his arousal tantalizing me.

“We have to leave first doll.” I chuckled. He wasted no time, taking my hand and almost in the same giddy fashion as I had led him into the park for our date, leading me toward the parking area.

When we arrived at the bike, he held his hand out; “keys” was all he said.

“Nope, I’m driving,” I smiled, straddling the bike “hop on.” He rolled his eyes and mounted behind me. He pressed up against me for the ride and as much as it made the ride agonizing, I was thrilled at his touch, the closeness promising more.

He’d clearly exercised every ounce of patience by the time we made it to the apartment because he was all hands in the hallway, the stairs were my chance to break away by trying to sprint up them ahead of him, but I’d failed to remember he was fucking fast. He caught me by the waist and pulled me back down the two stairs I’d managed to gain on him, he gripped my hips and kissed me hungrily, pressing me against the railing. He held me there as his mouth assaulted mine, fingers from one hand holding my head firmly, the other hand on my ass, pressing me to him, even as the railing at my back gave me no quarter. I had no mind to try to escape, I wanted to be closer, and that he had the advantage for the moment was my gain. My knee went between his legs and I pressed as close as possible. I broke the kiss and moved my mouth to his jaw, down his neck. I made my mark there, and at the moment I sensed his weakness, pressed him the three or so feet across the stair to the wall, effectively trapping him there. He stood proud as I hiked my knee, still between his legs, upward and grinned hungrily at him, “So this is really how you want to do this?”

“Give me your worst.” He teased, his eyes darkened.

“I’m not going to fuck you in the stairwell, we’re proud-not gonna do the cliché hiding.” I nipped at his jaw, pressing into him and feeling and reacting to the straining of his cock even through the multiple layers of denim. “upstairs, we need to go.”

We wasted no more time getting to our floor, I opened the door to him kissing me again, urgently, trying to grasp at my waist “Bedroom Steve – you choose.” I breathlessly urged him forward. He steered me by the waist to his room, closest door I guess. “Slow down gorgeous – I’m not going anywhere,” I laughed as he tried to rush. “And step back and undress properly. I want to see you. You’re so beautiful, I want to see you strip.”

“Bucky,” he almost whined,

“I’ll strip for you, sweetheart.” As I pulled away, I rolled my arms out of my jacket first, then hiked the hem of my shirt up just enough to expose some of my belly, “You first love.” I leaned on my hands at the footboard; my hips arched forward, my shirt still hiked, waiting.

Not releasing eye contact, he shrugged out of his jacket, I smiled encouragement, and he quickly tossed his shirt over his head and onto the floor. His gaze returned to mine as he hesitated when his fingers touched his jeans button. I took my shirt off in encouragement, then motioned for him to come closer. I took his hand away and put it on the button at my waist, replacing his with mine on his jeans. The button on his jeans slid through the eyelet and he sucked in a breath as my hand touched his skin where the waistband had once been. I splayed my hand out across his abdomen, just softly touching his skin more fully. He arched toward me; I put my free hand on his hand still stayed at my button, pressing it to my crotch, “your turn.”

His fingers only trembled slightly with anticipation as he popped the button from its mate; he unzipped my jeans and put both hands on my hips, between my skin and the fabric of both jeans and underwear, pressing them both downward. I returned the favor, slowly sliding my hands along the skin of his delicious hips. I rounded to his buttocks claiming them in a light grasp and sliding the pants lower to his thighs. The move ensured that we stood closely enough our newly exposed skin touched, the feeling was nearly too much to bear as I felt his dick stirring against my own. His gasp affirmed that he too realized my reaction to him. Gravity saved us any further care for clothes, and he seemed uncertain where to put his hands. “Touch me, Steve. Anywhere, any way you want. Touch me.”

His hands rested on my hips, tentative again so I moved mine from his ass cheeks up the slender small of his back, causing him to arch and roll his back muscles, rolling the two of us closer together and just barely apart again. I followed the roll up to his broad shoulders, stretching up just an inch or so to kiss him. “Do whatever you’re thinking sweetness, I want you to touch me everywhere.”

I did gasp as his hand grazed my pelvic bone and his fingers finally brushed, barely feather light contact, the side of my erection. He stilled his hand before moving further, “I’m sure Steve, are you?” he claimed my lips with his, turning his hand to finally, officially claim his prize. His hand encircled me with a surety his previous tentative moves belied. I was about to lose my own composure, his grasp was heavenly. Silken, not too heavy, not too light, he gently touched me with a lusty curiosity.

“Don’t move.” He commanded, I almost whimpered when he released me and withdrew from my arms, his kiss on my neck the only thing grounding me. To my relief, he was gone and returning before I could miss his touch, the scent of something new tickling my nose as I heard the cap pop – my good boy, ahead of me in the planning department, bless my tactician boyfriend. He made a show of palming a dollop before tossing the open tube at me. I caught it in one hand as he crooked a finger, summoning me to follow, which I did like a panting pup. I’ll follow him to the goddamned ends of the earth. Always would.

He led me to the side of the bed, touched my arm as I got near and pulled me close, close enough to nip at my shoulder, leaving his mark in return on my neck as one hand stayed on the back of my neck and the other resumed its fondling, devilishly slowly. I wasted no time readying to stroke him, wanting to touch him more than breathe. Before I could touch he sighed, “Fuck me Bucky”.

The urgency in his plea made me stop my laugh before it escaped, “patience darling one. I’ll take care of you. You’ll take care of me. We have all night. Up with you, onto the bed.” He scrambled backward, the beautiful naked body on display for me alone, his legs already splayed from the move. I crawled up following him across the expanse, stopping just between his legs, taking in everything he was made of. “Oh Stevie…” I ran my fingers up his muscular thighs, causing what sensation with two different limbs I couldn’t say. Judging by the play of the muscles beneath my hands as they spread his thighs further, and the looks crossing his face, these were not unpleasant sensations at all.

At last, I was able to touch him in the very most coveted spot, sliding my fingers around his hole, to a sweet growl of my name, slipping just a single digit in a tiny bit to elicit a pleasured gasp, then further still with gentle circling motions, the sounds he made were beautiful music to my ears. I worked him more and grinned hungrily as he accepted the second finger and yet a third. Watching him writhing, his head tossed back baring that beautiful throat made me anxious to be inside him, anxious to have my mouth and hands on him. I checked my lust, wanting most of all to make this magical for him. His hand went to his own cock, and I openly watched him deliciously pleasuring himself before I moved to enter him and to replace his steady hand with my own. His sighs and cries built, his hands grasping at my ass as we moved together. I lived for the moment when his release brought his cries out as prayers in my name, stoking the passion creating my own climax. Withdrawing to a whimper, of deprivation and not pain thank god, I moved carefully over him, kissing from his cum splattered belly to his beautiful pecs, tasting all of him. I rewarded myself with his still bared neck, nipping and biting – my mark from the stairs was gone – I had to replace it with more. “Bucky! Buck, I need… I want to…”

“Sshh beautiful, you can have everything you want. Touch me baby.” I encouraged him as I placed his hand on my ass. His fingers went straight to the very spot aching for his touch; he followed my lead, or his own fantasies, and fingered me open for him. “you tell me, darling, you tell me when you want to fill me” I murmured in his once not so great ear, he heard every whisper, thrusting his hips and his fingers quickening, grazing that sweet spot. I kept reaching for more, arching and aching when I felt his tip moist and ready, replacing his fingers I eased back, resisting my eagerness, letting him control the show. His hands spread high on my thighs, pressing down, urging as his hips lifted at the same time. I straightened, arching my shoulders and back, sinking fully as he took my ass back in hand. Rolling my hips to his movements, mesmerized by his face, his litany of my name groaning from his lips, I called out to him in equal measure, taking my cock in hand to release the building, his hand moved from my cheek to cover my hand, I let him have control, freed to touch him.

“Bucky, baby, you’re so tight. So very fucking beautiful. Look at me Buck, I want to see you – I’m – I want to watch you when I cum.”

My gaze snapped to his face, his mouth open; his neck and shoulder muscles taught as his cries and mine drowned out any coherent words. I locked eyes with his, watching as we came nearly [shockingly] simultaneously, a beautiful, beautiful face. “Always my beautiful Stevie.” I murmured as we collapsed together.

He kissed me then buried his head in my neck, “Bucky, that –” He released a heavy breath, “that was fucking amazing.” He finished, kissing me softly again on the throat, nuzzling his mouth and cheek at my pulse point. “I love you Buck.”

“Love you too, Steve.  Stay right here, ok sweetheart?”

“Mm.hm… wait, where?” he murmured before he would let go of me.

“I’m going to take care of you baby. I’ll be right back.” I returned quickly with warm damp towels and water, looking at the disarray of his room, pillows had been evicted from the bed, our clothes had been kicked free and were spread here and there. I smiled, “thought it was much more tame than all this.” I chuckled after setting the water on the side table, crawling across the bed to his side again. I cleaned up his belly and chest, washing him was a dangerous joy. He returned the favor, with a smile and a lovesick look on his face.

“You could stay with me tonight… would you?”

“I can’t think of anything that would make me happier.” I kissed him lightly as he laid his head on my shoulder. “I’ve wanted to stay with you since I moved in. I’ve wanted you since then and beyond.”

“Was it as good as your expectations?” he asked – sounding just a little like that skinny guy once upon a time.

“Oh, Stevie!” I raised up on one elbow, looking him in the eye, hoping he’d accept my earnestness, “You always surpass my expectations!” his soft look was pleased and sleepy. “I’m just worried about yours?”

“Bucky, you were beautiful. Amazing, absolutely beyond my expectations. So worth the wait.”

“So were you, Steve. Absolutely perfect, worth the wait, I agree.” I rolled off my arm, to lie burrowed into his side, letting his arms envelop me. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck. So, so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a creative tool - I've played with the open season for Coney Island. Just by a couple of weeks.  
> this is also my first attempt at writing sex (for any orientation) so please be kind :)


	15. Sunday Morning

When I have the good fortune of sleeping through a night and waking naturally, a thing I’ve been doing alone on various occasions for over a year, I’m always already aware of my surroundings – like a mental inventory – before I can open my eyes. That first morning waking in his arms, tangled up in limbs and sheets, should have been foreign. Should have induced panic, right? Trapped again?

But no, it was the very opposite of that. I wasn’t trapped, I was cherished. My minor movement from trying to assess the situation caused him to stir a little. His hold tightened just the slightest and he rubbed his fluffy hair on my neck, burying his face there. I cupped his head, smiling at the closeness and our naked intimacy. His strong, soft breaths warmed my skin and sent messages to other parts of my body. When my erection touched his belly, his feigned sleep ruse was destroyed by his choice to touch me instead, a sleepy smile on his face as he looked at me.

“I’m not sure I know exactly what you’ve got planned there, but I’m sure I’m gonna like whatever it is.” I teased.

He pushed me onto my back and like a tiger, pounced on me, pinning my shoulders – not flinching at the unforgiving contact with my left arm. He continued his feline movements, crawling down the length of my body with a limber stretch, kissing both my scars and the smooth skin across my chest paying tribute to each nipple, making me long to toss him over and show him just what he was doing to me. I checked that thought, letting him explore my chest and down my belly. I arched as he dipped his tongue into my navel. His hold on my shoulders was still firm, with his arms stretched over his bowed head, and yet I was still the one at the disadvantage. As long as I planned to play fair, and I did plan to play fair for now. “Steve.” I ground out, his tongue dipping again into my navel, sweetly tormenting the muscles surrounding the area each time they rippled in response. His chin was just barely prickling with stubble and it tickled as he slowly, so tortuously slowly moved lower. His fingers found my balls before his chin brushed the tip of my cock, both things throwing me out of control; I arched to him again, causing him to release his other hand from my shoulder and put it firmly on my hip, pressing my ass back into the bed.

“Take it easy there – I’ve got plenty of time to take care of you Buck. Patience baby.” His voice was deep and husky – the breaths whispering over the tormented head of my dick. His eyes flicked from my face to the pre-cum his very words had drawn, and an arrogant smirk pulled at his wonderfully pink, full lips just before his tongue flicked over the tip, his fingers still massaging my sack, other hand pressing pink marks on my hip. I watched avidly, unable to move to nudge closer to him, my hand went to his head. I fumbled through his hair – loving his touch combined with the silken sensation of his hair in my fingers. I grasped and held to a hank of hair just firmly and gently enough and tried unsuccessfully to guide him closer. I felt the whisper of his smile across the tip and the reaction caused further urgency.

“Steve – please –” I called out as my hips tried again and failed again to reach him.

His tongue circled wider, taking an agonizing and tantalizing turn around the circumference, making a couple of circles before trailing down the length of me. I tossed my head back into the pillows trying this new tactic to arch to him to no avail. His languid treatment continued as his tongue stroked upward again in an agonizingly beautiful trail of heat. When he reached the tip after _for-fucking-ever_ , “Bucky, look at me darling, I want to see your lovely eyes.” He crooned. I glared at him and he laughed; the vibration of his the laughter resonating from his chest on my thighs, not fucking helping. As his laugh trailed off, he took the head into his mouth and continued making crazy things happen with his tongue before giving one firm squeeze and yet another to my balls, releasing his hold on my hip. I seized the advantage and arched into him, watching as he took me in – reveling as he sucked me down, then pulled back. I thrust forward again and he sucked in his cheeks, taking and giving – holding my hips to him as I tried to withdraw before I came. His hands cupped my ass, holding me firmly in place as I spilled into him. Both of my hands grasped to hold his head at my crotch, desperate to not let him move away even though he was clutching me as closely, his fingers kneading my ass.

After we separated, I felt too far away – “too far – closer Steve. Too far away…”, I stuttered as I grasped at his shoulders, intoxicated by the high, ineptly and too slowly getting hold of him, finally managing to drag him to my mouth for a kiss.

His kiss tasted heady, different, hints of what we’d just done on his breath as he kissed back; “not too far away now, Buck. Always together.” he surrounded me with his arms, kissing my face, “Don’t you forget it, you’re mine baby.” He kissed my temple, rubbing my jaw with his thumb.

I pulled his face back to kiss him again, hungrily claiming his lips and tongue, eventually the hunger gave way to lazy kisses and finally he pulled away, looking at me with a smile and heavy lidded eyes. “Stevie, where **did** you learn such lovely things?”

He leaned back on his elbow looking me over, giving me a full view of him as well, “internet,” he smiled wickedly, “I don’t make snacks _every_ time I can’t sleep.” His blush flooded from his cheeks over his neck and chest and as I’ve wanted every time I’ve ever seen or made him blush, I guided him to lie on his back. I touched the heated color on his cheek and trailed my hand down after it, following the flush with kisses. Yes, I was always right. Yes, the blush was a full body blush. Yes, I did take the time to possess each and every inch it touched with my fingers and with my mouth.

The beauty of this exercise is that each time the blush would fade, I could say something sweet or something dirty and it would reappear. I teased him with licks and kisses, really playing an unfair advantage because he’d already taken care of me. He was as shameless as I was – maybe more since he wasn’t held down. He kept trying to pull me to his cock as I kept following the blush as leisurely as I could manage. “Patience doll… ‘m doing something I’ve waited decades to do, don’t rush me – the light is perfect for this.”

“The fuck are you doin? Painting a picture?”

“In a way, yes. Found a memory and I’m building on it.” I kissed his pelvic bone with a slight nip “You wouldn’t wanna interfere with recovery would ya Stevie?”

His growl pulled a chuckle from deep inside of me, “Ok baby. Ok.” I caressed the length of him, causing him to writhe again. Planting kisses at the blush at his navel, I chuckled, breathing out on his flushed and heated skin. His resolve was crumbling and I could see when I looked into his eyes, he was onto my recovery ploy, but still reluctant to ‘interfere’ but if I didn’t act soon he would throw caution to the wind. I took his hand in mine, entwining our fingers before slowly withdrawing my hand from his, dragging along the length of his fine artist’s fingers, I moved his hand to his cock, placing it at the base. I repeated the drawn out process, smiling at his blown pupils, his slack, pink mouth, with our other hands, drawing this hand to my jaw. “Ok baby, you know what you want right now? You can make me do it. Or you can wait just another little bit.”

He moved his hand along my jaw, behind my ear, carding his fingers through my hair gently, giving me my leisure after all. I put his misery to rest with a kiss to the tip, licking and lingering at the slit where the pre-cum was thoroughly intoxicating. I grinned across the head, feeling him struggle to stay still. I repeated his little spiral trick, licking the circumference of his head before taking him fully. I tapped his thigh into motion, accommodating his movements and employing some tricks of my own. He was amazing in his restraint but I was better at overcoming his resistance, sucking him off in spite of his combat control. His climax was magnificent, his control broke, he clutched desperately at my hair holding me to him, not that he ever had to worry about losing contact as I rode it to the end.

As he had played the tiger crawling down my body as we welcomed the day, I crawled back up his body a tired kitten, seeking to bury my face in his neck for a cuddle and a scratch. He seemed to know exactly what I needed, his hand never leaving my hair, scratching my scalp lazily.

“So good, Buck. How can I ever start a day differently?” he sighed into my hair.

“Who says we have to?” I all but purred as I looked down the plane of his body. My hand rested on his chest lovingly, “ **This** is my home. This is where I want to fall asleep and to wake.”

He smiled, I could feel the change in his neck and jaw at the top of my head, it was followed by a soft laugh, “You want to move in with me again Buck?”

“M’hmm. Sounds perfect.” He hugged me closer and I felt overcome by his familiar spicy, clean fragrance, the solid, healthy beat of his heart and the full, deep relaxed breaths that I had ever prayed for. I looked up at him, his lashes were dusting his cheeks as his eyes closed, and when he slowly opened them again I was gifted with a lazy smile.

“I like Sundays Buck.”

“Me too, and any other day I can be with you.” I paused for a moment thinking just how that sounded, “now how‘bout that? I’m gone – a complete sap.”

“So’m I, Bucky. So. Am. I.” He sighed contentedly; “So, handsome, what should we do on this lazy Sunday?”

“Gym. Coffee. Movies.”

“So much for lazy.” He grumbled.

“Hey. Lazy is in there – movies…movies are lazy.”

“Fine. Shower. Gym. Coffee. Movies.”

“Shower. Gym. Shower. Coffee. Movies.” I corrected. “This is getting complicated.”

He laughed, “I can simplify it. Shower. Movies.”

“I like the way you think Rogers.” I rolled away from him and rose from the bed just to hear him growl as he grasped my arm and wouldn’t let go. “I’m going to go hit the shower!” I tried tugging away.

“Who says you get first go?” he sat up, exposing all his naked splendor, still holding my arm.

“I say you come with me, no firsts. We both get the cold-eventually-hot water that way.” I tugged him toward me and he scrambled from the bed. He kissed me as soon as he stood by me, his grip still firm on my forearm. I pulled him along with me into the bathroom, where we took turns pissing and tooth brushing – the usual – while the water warmed in the shower. Oh yeah, the shower. That was a small space but we shared well, lathering and washing one another building up to just plain fucking. It was urgent and nasty and fucking great. Yeah, the shower sex was just fucking hot.

 


	16. Flowers & Kisses are Just Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> companion to Steve's Unsent Letters Chapter [19\. Best Laid Plans](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815275/chapters/12192212) (2015-11-25)

Monday was the very opposite of what the day before had been. Monday started with a new project “Bucky needs to face the future”, and everything that I hadn’t been ready to think about along with it. He’d been planning this since the day after our first date, even though we hadn’t discussed it further. I got a little hot over that.

“Goddammit Steve! We were supposed to talk about it. You can’t just go making appointments and plans without talking to me first.”

“We did talk.”

“No. We. Did. Not. I mentioned – **mentioned** – your contacts. **You!** You didn’t even want to think about it then AND you never let on that you had found the will and desire to do so since.”

“Bucky, I’m trying to help you, you stubborn ass.” He rubbed his temples, his eyes were steely and his brow furrowed. That jaw of his slicing a stubborn profile as he turned away. “I asked a couple of people to meet me. **Me** Buck, you will – of course – have to meet some folks along the way but not today. I wanted to talk to these people on the sly, **not even bring you into it yet** , so that you could continue to do your work, become accustomed to being here. I wouldn’t even tell them yet that we’ve been in contact. It was all hypothetical data gathering.”

“Yes, I understand. What you don’t understand is you were taking command; Captain.” I shot him my sharpest salute, “I’m not _your_ **mission** Steve. I want to come back to the world, but I thought we would be working on it together, at my speed. I do **not** want you doing things for me; I don’t need you telling me where to be and how to fucking get there. I’ve given the people who will do that to me the fucking finger. I’ve burned them to the fucking ground. Don’t be one of them.”

His angry, sour look turned dark; “You’re comparing me to hydra?” he turned back to face me head on, his eyes wild, “You motherfucker! Don’t you ever –” he took a couple of long, agile, angry steps toward me and I shrank back against my will, feeling visceral fear.

I felt my breath hitch and the edges of my vision went fuzzy. I grabbed for the knob on the door to escape into my room, feeling an acute attack beckoning. “Bucky” I heard his voice deep and hollow in my ears. Blinking and trying to think, I tried focusing on that voice, trying to bring it to the surface. He was near but had turned to the side in a nonthreatening pose, his eyes had softened, “Buck, it’s ok – you’re safe – Bucky you’re safe sweetheart – please come to me.” His voice broke free of the hollowness and became clear. “I’m so sorry Buck. You’re safe, it’s ok to be afraid but fuck, please don’t be afraid of me.” He was weeping. He put his hand out, tentative, slowly he touched my arm, “Bucky, please.” His hand moved up and down my forearm, hesitant before a soft, brief squeeze by my wrist, then soft again along my hand to my fingers. “I didn’t mean to put you in this position.”

He was on his knees and at first it was strange to me that he’d be on his knees but then I realized it was because I was. I’d sunk to my knees and he had put himself at my level. I gravitated toward him and put my head on his shoulder. “I can’t Steve. You can’t do this.” I sobbed. “You can’t go taking command over me. Nobody has that right, not ever again. If you don’t understand that – then we… we got nothin.”

“No, no Bucky, no. I made the wrong call. I was doing what I know how to do. Timing was wrong, I know I did the wrong thing.” he touched my face but I kept my forehead on his shoulder not moving to his attempt to guide me. “Bucky, will you please look at me? Just for a sec,” I looked up; saw the tension around his eyes. “Bucky I’m going to make mistakes. Please know I’m going to try –” he sucked in a sharp breath, “I’m going to try so fucking hard not to make this kind of mistake again.”

“I need to go lie down.” I was withdrawing from him, I knew it, he knew it, but my head was throbbing, I felt nauseous. “I know you’re trying.” I said woodenly, “It’s enough. I promise, but I need –” I tried to stand but the throbbing and dizzy feeling made me reel, he was up and catching me before I tumbled.

“C’mon then –” he led me into the room. “You get some rest. I can cancel any meetings until we talk about it. I didn’t mean to cause you pain, Buck – that’s the last thing I was trying for.”

“I didn’t mean to come undone in the middle of a lovers’ spat either.” I tried for humor, but just got another sharp pain in my head, and his grimace like it was his pain, for my troubles. I couldn’t let go, my arm tightened at his waist “Please don’t do that again.”

“I didn’t mean to advance on you – I wasn’t thinking clearly I was so angry that you didn’t –”

“Not that – that wasn’t cool either and I know that’s the only thing you think you did wrong – but the decisions thing, not on my behalf. Not ever. I’ve let you make choices for things I want you to choose, like what we’re going to eat if you’re cooking; what to do on our dates or which movie to watch, what we might do for an afternoon, but don’t **ever** make decisions for me.” I finally pulled away from him, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“I will do better Buck. I will.” He sounded earnest, definite.

I pinched the bridge of my nose trying to see through the headache, trying to find the right words, “Not ‘better’ Steve. You need to promise.”

“I promise –” He knelt on the floor in front of me, “I will not make decisions for you. I’m sorry I did this to you.” He said softly. “Can I do anything _for_ you?” he put his hand on my knee and I was in hell, I wanted two things simultaneously, for him to leave me the fuck alone and for him to hold me. Only one was the decent thing; only one was healthy; only one of those choices would make both of us feel better.

“Hold me, Steve. I need sleep; this pain won’t leave without it. Just hold me.” I watched as he reenacted a historical scene from our lives – with a role reversal. He stayed on the floor on his knees, he looked up at me as he started untying my sneakers; I nodded and he took the shoes off and set them aside. Then he rose and pulled the covers back on the bed and closed the curtains in the window before coming back around to where I sat, “under the covers? Then get…” he shooed me across the bed at my nod and climbed in behind me, wrapping me in his arms. He kissed my neck “sleep Buck. We’ll work everything out together.”

“Do me a favor Steve, talk to me about something, about anything positive, nothing end of the world – quietly tho’ huh?” I felt his smile curve at the back of my neck as he considered what to talk about. He softly told me about his time on the show circuit, describing pretty showgirls in minute detail until I was asleep.

I woke hours (?) later with just a hungover sort of feeling and not outright pain, it would do. I tried to roll over but was met by a wall of boyfriend. He hadn’t left. “Hey Steve.” I nudged him with my shoulder.

“Hmm?”

I turned to see him, his eyes were closed, a half-smile on his face, “Why didn’t you leave? I mean I’m glad you didn’t but –”

He hiked up onto his side, resting his head on his hand, “I didn’t want you to wake up alone. I did consider whether or not you’d mind though. You should really kinda hate me right now.”

“No. Just because you scared me doesn’t mean I hate you. You have a rage issue Rogers. I have a whole host of issues. We’re fucked up but I really do think we can work it out. We just gotta do it together. Thoughtfully. Carefully.”

He nodded, considering what I’d said, frowning “How are you feelin now?”

“Shitty.” I complained, “I’m just in a shitty place today. Fuck.”

“If you want me to leave you alone, just tell me. I’m not sure what to do here.”

I rolled away from him and stretched as I sat up on the opposite edge of the bed. “I don’t know what I need. Or want.” I sighed as I got up and crossed the small space to the window and opened the curtains, squinting violently against the light.

“Now why’d you do that?” he asked from his spot on the bed, shading his eyes with his arm raised.

“’s too easy to dwell in the dark. ‘sides, I was lookin for my fuckin’ flower.” I recalled the speech he’d given me that first night.

His raucous laughter shocked me.

 “What?” was my indignant response, “I thought for sure by now there’d be a little respect and a goddamned flower?” I crawled across the bed to kiss him.

“I’ll buy you dozens.” He crooned into the kiss, “but flowers & kisses are just distractions.”

“I know. I know. Go to your meetings, Steve. Talk about hypothetical me.”

He drew back, looking for a lie in my features, I’m certain. “I can cancel until we’ve talked.”

“I’m pretty sure I overreacted. I’m just not that excited about green-lighting my conviction.”

“Terrified.” He supplied, cupping my face, his eyes were steely, his face softly sympathetic and his voice hitching, “it will be ok Bucky.”

“Even you aren’t convinced of that.” I called him out, “What? Say we do get a good response from the American government, and I don’t have to serve any time, even end up with my record coming away smudged but ok.” He smiled a small half-smile – I’ve seen that smile thousands of times and it wasn’t always an indication of comfort or bliss, it’s a beautiful distraction, a brave facade. “What about other countries? Facing extradition, fates worse than prison? I guarantee you there’s not a lot worse than being imprisoned, but I kinda like my life and I don’t want to die Steve. I don’t want –” my breaths were starting to heave, my throat tightened around my words.

His hand softly palmed the back of my head as my vision started to fuzz again, he pulled me into him like nothing more than a child, “Shh Bucky. Breathe. Come on – don’t give in to the panic. I’m right here sweetheart, breathe. In; out; you got this Buck.” He soothed, repeating the age-old breathing mantra we both knew bone deep. I started to relax into him as my breathing normalized. “We are ok to wait on this – you don’t have to worry about anything doll.” He soothed.

“Today needs to be cancelled. I fucked up.” I groaned; the headache back in full force. I settled against him for a brief moment “Would you close the curtain?”

He patted my hip as he got up from the bed. “Sweetheart, I did that already. You’re the bonehead that opened it.”

I flipped him off as he went around the bed to close the damned curtain again. “Just hurry back smartass.” I sassed him quietly. He was quick and curled up to me again.

“I’m glad you want me to stay close Buck but you might be nicer about it.” He softly hummed into the back of my neck.

“Shut up Steve.” I snuggled back against the solid wall of his chest, pulling his arms tighter around me. I fell asleep to the gentle rocking of his silent chuckles.

I woke to the nighttime darkness of the apartment with no lights on, a large arm over my waist pinning me to the bed. I took his hand in mine for the briefest of moments before sliding out of the safety of his hold, out of the bed and out of the bedroom. I wandered, stopping at the kitchen table with the papers and file folders that Steve had laid out from earlier still sitting there – mocking me and my crippling fear. I switched on the kitchen light and stepped closer. My life on paper – spread out before me; the person I once was in another life. The weapon I was trying to escape. All of the things I did in the name of ‘freedom’; real and part of hydra’s lie. So many things I don’t remember along with things I can never forget.

It’s one thing to think about and to know these things; it’s another thing all together to see it written out in words and pictures. I hovered over the tableau focusing on the system he’d employed in laying things out. What I’d done with Captain America and the Commandos – the hero stuff he raves about – taking center stage, countering the things I did for hydra. I see what he’s doing here. Building me up by dissecting the parts needing defending and creating a character reference for who I was. But there’s the flaw. I’m not him. I took a blank page from a notebook and proceeded to write things down that I’ve done since leaving hydra’s grasp – not the arson and murder – that might not look too good, but building my own home from nothing with nothing (without breaking any laws); building a sort of business or income – yeah that’ll bite me when the IRS gets involved. The list was short. “I’m screwed.”

“If ya wanna be, you’re in the wrong place.”

I jumped just a bit at that, he’s a stealthy fucker. “shouldn’t sneak up on a hardened murder machine Steve.” I warned him irritably.

He snaked his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You’re an idiot.” I caressed his arm. “And this isn’t going to work.” I gestured the table of doom.

“You used to be so optimistic!” he complained in my ear.

“I sure hope that’s sarcasm Steve.”

“Nope, who else tells a 90 pound bundle of rage that being left behind in New York would be to his benefit due to the 3.5 million women residing there? Optimism.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well it was you. Night before you shipped out. Trying to extol the virtues of not following you to war.”

“Would you do it differently now?”

“Hell no. I’d do other things differently, sure, but not that. How about you? Would you still have enlisted?”

“Yeah, probably woulda been drafted if I hadn’t anyway – that point is pretty much moot. Sure woulda made some different calls once I got there.” He rubbed his cheek against mine, “you angling for a kiss?”

“I’m always open to’em but I thought I was just listenin’”

I kissed him softly, “you were getting cuddly. Trying to distract me.”

“Yeah, because we don’t need any more drama today. You’ve dealt with enough.”

“You got a solid plan building here, Steve. I’m sure if you take the time you can really make it work. I’m not him” I indicated the center stack of ‘Sergeant Barnes’ exploits “any more – like you’re not this guy.” I pointed out a picture of the two of us, him before the serum that sat at the periphery of the paperwork. “You couldn’t be him if you tried.” I stressed. “They’re in us, but we’re not them.”

“Maybe not – but this guy… He was a POW. A war hero and a prisoner against his will. He was tortured and made into this guy,” he gestured the splintered documents of all of my best work “That guy was my best friend – and he was hurt and terrorized. This guy – he’s also pain, he is **not** these things – he too is a victim.” He turned me to face him, putting his hands on my face, “And this guy… he’s the sum of the two parts plus some extra special stuff that he’s added to the mix. He’s a hero to a little girl, he’s an entrepreneur, and he’s a homemaker with very decent kitchen skills. He’s going to be a teacher one day. He’s a veteran, recovering POW and PTSD sufferer. He’s also the man I love and I’ll go to battle for every day of the week.”

I kissed him properly “You’re a real sap Rogers. If you are planning our coming out for court or grand jury or whatever – you’ve got your speech. But I'm not sure you'll be able to dismiss everything I did for hydra quite so tidily”

He grinned, “Our coming out?”

“That’s what you take away from what I said?” I rolled my eyes, “you’re hopeless.”

“No, in all honesty it won’t be easy or clean but this is a start. We’re not even there yet so I have time. We have time.” He kissed my neck, “Enough time to walk away from this for the night. Enough time to take care of my boy.”

“Hm, you gonna feed me? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Wasn’t where my mind was, but you probably do need to eat.” He sounded disappointed.

“I could wait to eat, depending on what alternative you have to offer.” He seemed to consider those alternatives and the hero won out again as he pulled me along into the kitchen.

“You don’t take care of yourself, I’d better.” He grumbled, but the smirk belied his tone as he started pulling sandwich makings from the refrigerator. I watched as he started assembling a promising spread.

“I do alright.” I plucked the cheese he’d just sliced from the block and popped it in my mouth before he could snatch it away.

He turned around and smiled “impatient mouse.”

“You’re sending mixed messages.” I pulled him closer, nipped his bottom lip. “You make me impatient.”

“You need to eat. We can do this after.” His resistance would be admirable if I was in the right frame of mind.

“Always the hero.” I pouted. He kissed my pout away then moved around me to finish that damned sandwich making.

I was hungrier than I’d thought; eating the sandwich in addition to all of the parts I’d snacked on while he worked around my grabbing fingers. Grabbing deli cuts and grabbing at his waist, keeping him jumping. He watched me as we ate, “you’re staring. You got a problem punk?”

“Just thinking.”

“I thought you’d put this away for the night?”

“No, I did – I thought I did – I was thinking about what you said earlier, before I snapped. Do you think I’m like them?”

The sandwich sat heavy in my stomach as I realized how I’d made him feel in the heat of my anger and fear. “I was afraid, I was spiraling through my anger and I said the worst, most heartless thing. No. I don’t think you’re like hydra. I was lashing out at the piercing fear of losing control to anyone again.

He seemed to consider my words, my tone and possibly the look on my face, wanting – I’m sure – to believe me without having to raise the issue again, not wanting to ask for reassurance one more time. I waited for his judgment, finding the verdict in the softening of his eyes and the relieved smile that reached them.

“It’s part of my job to take command – don’t let me get away with it at home. I meant it when I said I’d try. I promised, I know, but what if I fuck it up?”

“You know how I keep saying I’m still a fucking mess? This is part of that blanket statement. Here’s the deal; I’ll remind you in a much less angry way if you slip. I can’t promise I won’t freak out on you but I’ll try. The way you do things hasn’t changed since forever – doesn’t have to change but I _have_ to do things a lot differently. Recovering from what I went through; it’s a process, one I’ve had to craft and master on my own. Now I’ve let you into my life – which changes my process. I just ask you to have patience with me like I’m going to need to have with you.”

“I’ll do everything I can. Hurting you is the last thing I want.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that? You have to know, days like today will happen, not always because of something you do or say.”

He took my hand in his, “We’re going to be ok. We’ll manage the shit together and we’ll have things like this past week to look forward to.”

“I’m glad to see you’re not all gloom and doom these days. Your friends really are good for you, Steve.”

“You’re part of that too, Buck.”

“Yeah, maybe a new part – but this isn’t a new mood, this has settled on you. It’s good. Should some of it rub off on me at some point, I’d feel pretty lucky.”

“Seems to me like something is already in progress.” He said as he pulled me in for a kiss. “I love kissing you,” he murmured into my lips before hauling me to him in a crushing hold. Our movements were frenzied trying to undress and hold tightly, to not pull away from the kiss. The moment was obliterated by the clamoring ring of his phone. “Motherfucker.” He groaned “I have to get that.” His posture changed the instant he recognized the ring, his shoulders squaring up and the line of his jaw rigid.

“Avengers…” I grumbled to his nod, I went into our room as he talked, not wanting to overhear. Not wanting to think about what the next hours-to-days would bring. Wishing I could go along to keep an eye on him yet glad I was able to just stay behind.

He came in, obviously already in battle mode – gathering things from their places, jaw ticking, “I have to go,”

“I know – it’s what you do. Just come back.” He yanked me into his arms harshly but held on gently.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t apologize to me about this. I mean it though, come back.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll check in –”

“When you’re done – not before. Don’t think of anything but the mission Steve. Promise full attention on your objective.” He relaxed into me and our embrace, “Promise me.”

“I promise. I love you.”

“I love you too – now go save the world or whatever you freaks do.” I pushed him toward the bedroom door, thrusting his shield at him.

“Don’t make me have to come tear the world apart to save you.” I muttered as I heard the front door close. I stood at the bedroom window until he was whisked away in a sweet little sports car and for even longer before I loosened my grip on the sill and padded into the kitchen to put away all of the food that was still on the counter.

I sat in front of the project board of my life and considered it all again. Would this work? Would Steve be safe if it got out that he’d been harboring me? Would he be safe tonight? I pulled out my phone, sent a text to Sam.

                “Sam – you on this Avengers call? If not, call me.”

                “Yeah, I’ve been called out too, will do. Are you good?”

                “Gonna have to be. Be safe – watch his back, please. And yours.”

I switched on the television – a first for me – and scanned for news. It was going to be a long night.

The news was full of conflicting stories, it became a big guessing game as to which fantastical tale could be true – and judging by the history of the Avengers, and it could have been any of them or none. I chalked it all up to needy people wanting attention and making false reports and decided to just shut off and wait. It wasn’t much easier but at least my temptation to throw something hard very forcefully through the television, and the wall it was mounted on, was reduced. Would it be aliens? Robots? Robot aliens? Alien robots? People, please – just because these things happened before doesn’t mean that is the problem now. I started thinking about the idea of more Hydra related activities – much more frightening and realistic to me.

I wandered the entire layout of the apartment before taking my roaming up to the roof to look out over the city as the moon and stars gave way to the colors of sunrise and the cold blue day. I might have zoned out – I can’t call it sleep – but the sun was setting behind me instead of overhead when I heard his voice. “Bucky!” repeated in the distance. I heard him in the stairwell calling out. I turned, the sun silhouetting his broad shoulders, shield secure at his back. The tips of his hair looked alight with the sunset, I was frozen in place, trying to judge his appearance – assess his injuries, but couldn’t make out more than his strong silhouette. Breathing a sigh of relief, I should be able to tell if he was hurt too badly – my assessment skills hadn’t abandoned me – I went to him and grabbed him in a tight hug. I didn’t miss his grunts of pain, nor could I let him go just yet, I lightened my hold, “you’re hurt – you didn’t seek first aid? You fool, come on.”

“I’m the fool? You’re freezin’ Buck.”

“I’ve been colder – come inside.” He slumped in my arms displaying a weakness he hadn’t seemed willing to show before. “Yeah, you’re an idiot.” I muttered as I helped him down the stairs to our apartment.

I ushered him into the apartment, closing the door that he’d apparently left open, not worrying about the gear he’d obviously left by the door, to come look for me. In our room, I started unfastening the belt and straps from his suit, he brushed my hands away taking them into his “You’re freezing; your hands are like ice.”

“Metal. No worries.”

“Only this one. This one is almost as cold dumbass.”

“Warm me up after I get you doctored, blood beats frostbite.” I slid my hands from his and continued removing his uniform, assessing the damage. “Sit right here, don’t move.” I ordered, going into the bathroom for supplies to tend to his wounds.

“I’ll be fine in a bit, Buck. Come back in here.”

I returned to him, supplies in hand, “you’ll be fine – yes – but cleaning this is still important. You’ll let me do this.” I stood between his knees at the side of the bed and put my hand on his neck, “See, already warming, let me care for you. I take it the world is safe again?” I started washing his wounds, the same ones that were already appearing smaller, mocking me and my doctoring skills.

“Yeah, seems so. You’re worrying too much.” He grumbled.

“No, I did a better job putting holes in you. I know you’ll pull through.” I kissed his forehead. “I was so relieved to see you.”

“I was relieved to find **you**. You never answered your phone.” He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face in my chest.

I breathed out; resting my chin on his head “I didn’t realize I’d left it in the apartment. I was having a hard time waiting. I think I just checked out.” I held him as closely as he was holding me. “You called me?”

“You said check in. Don’t be a dope, of course I called.” His voice sounded sleepy.

“Well.” I checked my self-anger, what the hell was wrong with me? “I’m so sorry for that. I really did check out. Holdover from yesterday I think, plus worrying about you.” I pulled away enough to look at his face, “How’s Sam?”

“Banged up, bruised and understandably pissy.”

“You’re going to have to tell me all about it after you sleep.” I brushed his hair from his eyes, “you up for a shower? Y’oughtta at least go to bed feelin’ clean.”

“Don’t wanna move.” He gripped me tighter and my arms went around him protectively.

“I’ll be right there with you. No tellin what grime you got all over, you’ll sleep better. It’ll warm me up.” I smiled into the top of his head, kissing softly, smelling and tasting the smoke on him.

“Fine.” It was supposed to be a begrudged concession but sounded more like a pouty child as he let his arms drop to his sides. I took his hands and pulled him to his feet.

“Ok then,” I put an arm at his waist, ready to bear his weight again if he slumped like he had on the roof. He kept to his feet OK, pressing into me rather than leaning. He was already starting to heal – I was glad of that – he was just so damned tired.

In the bathroom, he stood against the sink while I ran hot water for the shower and took my own clothes off. He then allowed me to guide him in, which was unusual, his eternal feisty spirit overrun by the weariness of the last couple of days. I stood with him under the hot water flow for a long time before starting to soap and rinse him caringly; paying special attention to the wounded areas that hadn’t yet healed. He snaked his arms around me and started kissing me lazily. My resolve to just tend his wounds and his well-being was shaky, and crumbled as his hands wandered, exploring.

I locked onto his gaze as he lifted me like he hadn’t just fought a battle and been shot, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, his hand grasped my ass firmly, kneading before slipping soapy fingers around and into my hole. His touch was urgent; I arched to him aching for more, settling adjacent to his cockhead, his fingers continuously working. I risked losing eye contact as I reached, yearning for more of him. He grew as my movements slid along his cock, my own rubbing between our bellies, nearly straining with just that contact.

The moment he replaced his fingers with his dick I took over; gripping his shoulders, extending my arms to raise myself above him and sink fully, causing him to gasp. His fingers gripped my hips in a half-hearted attempt to stop my rutting movements. I pulled up again nearly releasing him before he thrust my hips back down. His half closed eyes met mine, his cheeks were flushed and demanding kisses. I obliged, taking care to cover his face with kisses before claiming his mouth. His fingers bruising my hips and ass as he came, my bucking increasing as my climax followed. He exhaled roughly into our mingled breaths, then moved to nip at my throat.

The hot water was cooling as we eventually separated, his hands going to my face, ducking his forehead to mine. “I needed that.” He huffed.

“Me too.” I melted into his arms; holding him close for another extended moment before killing the water and reaching for the towels on the towel-bar. They were warm from the radiator, a welcome feeling as I dried him thoroughly, reverently inspecting small scrapes where there had been cuts and gashes, light bruising where there was color and the harsher wounds that had been deeper, still present but less threatening, less angry and red. “Do I bother patching any of these up?” I wondered aloud.

He took the towel from me and started to dry my skin, “no, they’ll be fine – you’ve already done so much. Let me just take you to bed.”

“I'm taking care of you today Steve.” I took the towel and tossed it over the towel bar. Gripped his hand and towed him along with me back to the bedroom. As soon as I’d pulled the blankets back on the bed he crawled in, giving me a great view of his ass in the process. He rolled over, lying prone and looking at me like a lost pup as I picked up his things from earlier and set them in a stack on the dresser.

“Bucky, you can’t take care of me from clear over there.” His voice was heavy with a mixture of lust and sleepiness.

“You angling for something or just want me to tuck you in?”

“You really wanna know? I want… you to come… over here –”

I approached the end of the bed and crawled across, taking his foot in hand as he lifted it to touch my arm. I gave it a rub, moving my fingers up to the ankle. I found his other foot with my left hand and repeated the massage before taking it by the ankle. I held them firmly, leaning forward to kiss the soft inside space of each thigh. A deft movement almost startled me until it registered that he was reaching over to the nightstand, dropping the lube just between us, I let his ankle loose just long enough to make good use of it and work him open for me. His beautiful body responding just the way it should, as though it had done as much rigorous training for this as he put it through for his work.

Watching him arch to my teasing made me impatient with my own actions, wanting to rush, I was still just able to resist. As he pressed himself onto my hand, pushing and pulling with his movements, he whimpered gentle sounds as my fingers hit that sweet spot. Watching him, I waited for his eyes to find mine before withdrawing. His features fascinated me as they went from pure bliss to mild annoyance. I took his ankles one by one back in hand and put each of them over a shoulder as I crept closer, torn between watching his face and looking at his body which was completely on display.

His gaze never wavered – looking for me to continue. I smiled and he arched, trying to work closer. His hands, which had been spread at his sides, moved to try to pull me closer. “Touch yourself Stevie,” my voice hitched, coming out more gravely than intended. I moved closer to him, my dick touching him briefly each time he moved. I watched his body reacting to mine, and to his handling of himself. I was fascinated with all of him. His annoyance had added to his impatient arousal, making his lips extra pouty, his jaw defiant and his eyes were so piercing that I ultimately could not resist and entered him – making my best attempt at a lingering experience but having his impatient ass thrust at me derailed my plan, exciting me and thrilling him in the process. I fucked into him at his impatient whim, thrusting to his preset rhythm, following his lead.

I watched as he spilled across his chest and belly, looking at me with his lusty blue eyes shuttered by the veil of lashes. I spilled into him as he licked his pink, pouty lip and never tore his gaze from me. eventually i withdrew from him, gently lowering his legs to the bed, crawled to his side and kissed his perfectly plump lips and stroked his cheek, “I’ll be right back. Be a good boy and be asleep when I return.”

“Buck –”

“I love you too” I cut off his tired protest.

He was nearly asleep when I returned with a clean warm wash cloth to continue worshiping him in this way. I spent a lot of extra time just checking again for wounds. He took my hand in his “you need to stop now. I’m fine. Come to bed.”

I slid into the bed beside him, pressing up against him as he pulled the blankets over us and kissed my neck and lips gently. “It’s my job to worry about you. Always has been. You can’t fault me for sparing an extra few minutes with your body now that I can look my fill.”

“You can’t fault me for wanting to hold you for the same reasons.” He wound his arms around me, “I’m exhausted and just want to be close.”

He was right. It wasn’t all about me; this was the day I needed to be there for him, as he’d been there for me the day before. Knowing tomorrow would be another story; I huddled into his hold, tuned to his breathing, matching mine to his. I remained awake until I was sure he was finally sleeping then followed suit.

* * *

The next morning I walked out into the living room in just my jeans - saw Steve dressed the same, talking with Sam who had stopped by with breakfast and coffee and a delightful surprise, redcurrant preserves from Ember. I'd forgotten about it in the last week. It was a pleasant surprise but in no way made up for the less than pleasant discussion we were having over it.

“Barton had Maldonado loaded in the jet by the time we exited the cave, when I saw the troop truck roll in I was a little nervous. The speed with which they unloaded the truck was impressive. I fought alongside Natasha even though the fight seemed stacked against us. We just needed to cross the ravine.”

“He got himself shot crossing that ravine, this one’s a sucker for adrenaline,” Sam explained, sarcastically emphasizing the next word “ _apparently_. He might, **might** have missed out on the possibility of getting shot if he’d had me stay to get them out in the first place.” 

“You couldn’t manage both of us, you know I was still in the fight when I was shot the first **and** second time; it wasn’t until that last shot that you needed to pull me free.”

“I guess the two of you had the whole thing under control before I came around then. Let me guess, you’d still be here talkin' about how easy it was if it weren’t for me?”

While I was entertained by their banter, especially Steve’s reluctant admission that Sam was right, I wasn’t exactly enjoying hearing about their hydra battle. I was just relieved that they were both sitting there safe and sound and everyone had come away only slightly battered. That they’d managed to fold an entire cell of hydra obtaining even more of their cryptic information and were able to detain one key person with intimate knowledge, none of this meant I should be happy about it. ‘I should have been there.’

They both turned, pointing puzzled looks in my direction, which was when I realized I’d said that aloud. “Well, I wasn’t doing anyone any good sitting on the roof freezing my stupid ass off, was I?”

That earned a chuckle from Sam and the puzzled, questioning look on Steve’s face didn’t falter.  “I know – I haven’t shown any interest, but that won’t stop me from knowing that I could have your back. I should have your back.”

“Bucky,”

“I know what it means – we need to do this first.” I gestured the stuff on the table that hadn’t moved since Monday.

Sam stood from the sofa, rolling his spine in a stretch, he winced at his injuries. His face sported angry bruises and a cut above his eye. If this guy – just a regular guy – could put himself into the fight and come away aching and bruised with smiles and laughs about any of it, I should be able to manage this. He crossed the room to look at the table, “looks like a good start. You know you two don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know, I wasn’t planning to, we’re gonna need help.”

“He hasn’t got the number up to two yet.” I added, receiving a frown from Steve. I met and matched his glare, which actually softened his gaze.

“You have to be ready for any fallout – don’t let this guy rush you. Don’t let what happened the last couple of days rush you. You’re still safely under the radar,”

“For now.” Steve provided.

“You’re _not_ helping with that kind of input. You can’t rush him, **don’t** rush this. Go ahead and do what you need to do to keep building on what you’ve got here in the form of character references or defense building but you have to remember this isn’t _your_ fight Steve. You’re a resource. I’m a resource. Bucky has to take the lead on this.”

“Bucky keeps waffling.” I piped in. “I can’t seem to settle on a simple decision. I’m almost convinced that I want it then when I start thinking about it, the thoughts become consumed with results of that “fallout” you mention, that’s what keeps crippling me.”

“It’s not about a simple decision Bucky. It’s going to take a lot out of you no matter what the end result is – and the end result isn’t something you will see clearly going in.” I’m sure he was warning me, but he was looking at Steve and the stubborn set of his jaw.

“I don’t like sitting around waiting.” He complained, clearly not thrilled that Sam wasn’t singing the same song.

“Then don’t wait around. You said you wanted to start selling your art. Fill your time drawing, painting, make art. Take time for that. Check in on the stuff we just obtained about hydra. Then you can work on investigating this; just don’t be pushy when it comes to something you can’t be in control of.” I was so relieved to hear that ‘Steve’s friend Sam’ was supporting me in this, I wasn’t sure I could hold up against two of them.

“Steve, before I moved in here this wasn’t your focus. If that was the reason you wanted me to move in,” I sighed, nervous that one of my fears might be realized, “you should have said so. I told you I have to do this at my speed. Just because I’ve been considering it doesn’t mean I’ve decided. I will compromise on this one thing – I am willing to get involved in the planning. I’m ready to enlist you and Sam in the research. I’m NOT ready to move on it yet. Which should be fine with even you since it’s not nearly ready to be put into action.

“If you can guarantee that you will be keeping me **_and_** _**you**_ safe by you meeting with some of your contacts and say, building my case “in the eventuality that I resurface” – _and can keep them believing that_ _ruse_ , then by all means, you and Sam make those meetings happen. It will put more info on the board. You have to guarantee the three of us will be safe in the meantime. No legal repercussions for you two for “harboring a fugitive” and no authorities coming in here and dragging me away in the middle of the night.”

There. That was the look I was expecting. He blanched at the reality that could be. He was almost ready to agree with me and mean it.

“Fine. Your point has been made.” I should have known he wasn’t above grumbling, “We’ll do it your way.” No, he was not above grumbling, at least he wasn't being a jerk about it.

“Thank you Steve.” I put my arms around him, “you’ll be OK. You’ll still be doing things your way, just on my timeline. And I promise. I’ll stop waffling.” His arms went around me and he squeezed me softly.

“Patience with me huh?”

“I’ve always had to have patience with you, now’s nothing new.”

“There’s a lot of people around you learning patience.” Sam piped in from where he was inspecting Steve’s work and making some notes of his own. “Maybe it’s time you take a lesson from them.”

I like Sam.

“Funny, Sam.” He left my side and went to the table, “But you also have a point. I’m going to work on that.”


	17. Date Night

The days that are filled with this mission he’s on, these are days when I’m not at my best. They’re gray days. I push the fear down and all that’s left is gray. There are times when Steve and Sam work together on the research in the apartment, and there are times when they leave for meetings. The info that they kept bringing home from meetings with people who owed favors or wanted favors was just that. Info. Info I no longer ask about. I let them go about their business. It kept terrorizing me, making me obsess over ideas of how I would escape if I have to. Within the first several days of experiencing those feelings, I decided I didn’t have to remain in a situation where I felt that way at every fucking moment, so I stopped listening and I cleared the room so he could do his job and I would do mine in the spare bedroom. I still can’t focus on it just yet, knowing that there’s still the very real possibility I could be convicted and sentenced or executed. I was not going to settle for that. Steve had no idea yet but I would simply not go. In order to cope I made and enforced two house rules.

                – First rule. No working until after breakfast. I would fix breakfast and if he wasn’t helping me he could do anything else, but no work. _“Ok Buck, if that will help.”_

                – Second rule. Quit working in time for dinner. This meant finishing up and working on dinner together or getting ready to go out. _“Again, Buck – whatever it takes I’ll do it.”_

There were - thankfully - also days that were bright and sunny (even when the sky outside was gray and snow was on the ground), I’m pretty sure that’s because those were the days we would go out, or we would simply stay in and watch movies all day, eating popcorn flavored with decadent ingredients like truffle oil or some exotic spice. Those were the days of cocoa and snowball fights and flowers being delivered.

The first flower delivery was about 10 days after the argument and my subsequent meltdown. I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast; Steve was in the kitchen blocking “the table” by using the light from the window to paint. This would be day 4 for the painting, having been sketched out the morning after one of our dates.

That date was the subject of his piece. I can understand his inspiration; it had been a really great date. Late one afternoon we had ventured out on foot, just deciding to wander the old neighborhood and see what we could discover. We happened to pass a diner that used to be something else – I don’t remember what. He decided we should to turn back and give them a try for dinner and I was all for a meal neither of us had to prepare, so I followed. The interior was pretty average, the food was tasty and the coffee strong. A flirty server took our order and hovered over Steve’s shoulder whenever he was talking to us. The little doll, with his bleached tips and spiked hair wasn’t too put off by Steve’s polite rejection. He just smiled sulkily as his attempts were lost to Steve’s notice. He was cute, but let’s face it, Stevie’s focus wasn’t on the poor kid as my smitten boyfriend kept giving me the same kind of looks he wasn’t aware that he was receiving. “Stevie, you better tip generously – you’re breaking the poor boy’s heart.” I teased as he signed the receipt for our meal.

“I don’t know what y’mean Buck.” He looked at me, completely oblivious to what I’d said.

“The server, the kid’s flirting up a storm with just you. Can’t be bothered to spare me a glance.” Shrugging into my jacket, I feigned dismay causing him to chuckle as he added the tip.

“If you say so Buck. I hadn’t noticed.” He smiled, looking like he was hiding something, while pulling on his coat.

“I noticed that too. Something else on your mind?” I asked stepping out into the chill, the snow that I’d seen falling while we were eating was letting up.

He slid his hand into mine, his smile intensifying, “I was just watching you. I love being able to be with you when you’re relaxed and happy. I know the past few days have been unnerving.” His breath curled around him in an icy cloud as he spoke.

“Dismal.” I huffed, I watched as the breathy cloud of frost broke around my face as I walked on through. “I have anxiety whenever the project board that now lives on the kitchen table is the topic of review, discussion or – hell – even if I see it.”

He turned, his smile melting into a thoughtful pout. I knew he was thinking of all the arguments in favor and he was trying to sort out the best thing to say that wasn’t one of them.

“It’s just not easy, Steve. It makes me anxious, there’s nothing to be said or done that will fix that. I’m working on it. Let’s go back to not talking about it just for tonight. Tonight is just you and me and now. I need that.”

He tugged me along – “OK then, tonight is just you and me.” He smirked, “and a crowd of Christmas shoppers.”

I groaned, “What **is** going on in that head of yours?”

But it wasn’t Christmas shoppers at all; we went ice skating at McCarren Park. I guess he’s just a crazy romantic fool, taking me on an ice skating date. He was like an excited child pulling me along to rent skates. Because I want him to experience joy and I want to see that smile that is so often clouded with doubt or responsibility or pain, I said nothing, smiling with him in his glee. I guess this could be how I behaved with him when I took him to Coney Island. It amazes me how the weather changed from a mild fall to a decidedly chilly winter so drastically in the short time since then.

“Come ON Buck!” he bellowed impatiently as I laced my skates, he was already on the rink, I shook my head smiling at him. “You afraid I’m gonna beat ya?”

“We really gonna race? I mean you could knock little kid down or somethin’.” I made my way to his side, “How’s that gonna look, Cap?” I added in a whisper.

“Don’t gotta be a race, maybe I’ll just _outskate_ you.” He crowed; skating around with a flourish and landing gracefully back at my side, sounding more like a child now than before.

“You never could. What makes you think you can now?”

“Suit yourself. Not sure what makes _you_ think _you’re_ gonna be able to outskate me.”

“Let’s just say,” I kissed him on the nose to be annoying, “remains to be seen.” And I skated away from him with a little speed and a lot of flash. He caught up to me and – belying his serum given or recently practiced grace, careened into me with a solid thud. “You never could skate, Punk.”

His arms tightened around me as we did just a little maneuvering to stay upright with this abrupt change in our center of gravity, “I do just fine. You got in the way ‘s all.” He huffed a little before moving away. “I don’t think I ever got much chance to get out on skates back in the day; with the cold and all. You always did well though. I picked up a thing or two recently between training and trying out the dating scene.”

“You dated?” I smirked, “When’d you find the time?” I took his hand firmly in mine as we set off at a slow glide.

“When Sam would join Natasha ganging up on me in the “get out there and do something” thing. I managed a couple of dates. That was over a year ago though. I date now. That ought to make everyone happy.” He grinned.

“Sure makes me happy.” I appreciated as his grin changed from sassy and cheesy to joy-filled. I pulled him along with me into a lazy lap around the rink before he started showing off around me again and we fell into bouts of skate-offs.

One particularly quick lap around the rink declared him the winner in speed – so I ponied up and treated both of us with hot cocoa. We stopped and sat for a bit near a heater, warming our hands and faces with the hot and steamy cups while warming our insides with the rich, sweet chocolate.

“Mmm, not bad – not like Ember’s but not bad,” he said after a long draw on the hot beverage.

“I agree, maybe we should make our presence known in there again soon? I’ve missed her. What do you think about breakfast tomorrow maybe?”

“Mm-hm.” He agreed, mid sip. “We could use a bit of her positive energy these days.”

“D’you think there’s something different about her? I mean –”

“Wouldn’t rule it out, seen crazier stuff, haven’t we?”

It would make sense, and as many times as I’d tried not to think about it, not to wonder and consider the implications, I always came back to the idea that she was somehow a powered person.

“Isn’t it strange, that you and I are sitting here _now_? That people have abilities and we just think, ‘oh; ok then’? I mean how is **this** normal?”

“It’s strange, yes. I guess being closer to it and working as a team, being friendly with people with different abilities makes it a little easier to go forward with. But meeting one on the street (or in a coffee shop) is still a little shocking.”

“’s long as she keeps up whatever it is she’s doin.” I smiled, “You’re not under her spell are ya? You’d love me without Ember?”

“I’ve loved you since long before Ember, Buck.” His eyes were soft and his cheeks were pink, pinker just now than the cold-kissed color that painted his nose and cheeks from a minute before. I leaned over and kissed him softly, taking time to just enjoy the coolness of his cheeks as we touched and the warm, chocolate taste of his kiss.

“I’m glad to hear that, you have to know how much I’ve loved you. Even when I had no clue – I was still in love with you Stevie. Things would flash in my mind, sunshine – you have always been my sunshine.”

He took my fingers in his hands, looking at me with his softly crinkled eyes, a smile just barely lifting at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure of that, Buck. Sunshine huh? Blazing, gaseous, fiery ball of –”

“Life giving, mood lifting, fiery ball of _something_ , lots of things, actually. For an artist, your romantic language is sorely lacking.” I interrupted. His blush returned as he kissed my fingers.

“Your cocoa’s gonna get cold.” He said, thinking he was smugly avoiding my comment. I glanced at him, eyebrow raised, giving him my best ‘side-eye’ with a smirk. “Ok Barnes what? You want poetry, date a poet. You got me – I’ll paint you a pretty picture full of romantic language. How’s **this** for romantic language?” he goaded, flipping me off.

We both dissolved into fits of laughter, jostling the table between us, knocking my cocoa clean off. “Well, I guess now we can go back out there so I can have my rematch. You can buy the next round – at the coffee shop.”

“First things first, speedy. I’m not finished. You really sure you’ll beat me again? You should really be prepared to buy the next round too.”

“Oh – that’s how you want to play this? Ok, get your ass in gear then Captain Cocoa.” I evaded a swipe aimed for my gut as I stood to head to the rink. He drained his drink and chased after me looking as menacing as a kitten chasing its tail.

I laughed as I skated away and he laughed as he caught up to me and grabbed me around the waist, appearing to others as though he was about to fall, but actually pulling me back and staying firmly, gracefully on his skates. “You planning to beat me with a head start? That won’t count.” He chuckled as he stood, brushed the hair from his eyes flipping the knit cap off of his head and it landed with a “fwap” behind him.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I teased, watching greedily as he bent over to pick it up. It was over too quickly but any chance to check out that ass is a chance to be savored.

“Are you done checking out my ass or is this a stall tactic? Come on Barnes, are we racing or not?”

I scoped out the perimeter of the rink, saw the possible path we could take – away from the wall yet as far to the outer edge as we could get. “We could get kicked out – you prepared for that?”

“Chicken?”

“Oh? Ok then two complete laps – On the count of 3,” we both braced for the start, “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.” we both huffed as we pushed off on our skates and sped around the rink.

We did alright keeping away from the other skaters, several of them stepping off to watch two lunatics racing around the rink. I held an early lead but even my recent time at the gym didn’t allow for me to maintain it and he passed me as we neared the finish, pulling off a win with his typical physical grace and zero sportsmanship.

“How does _that_ feel Mr. Confident?” he crowed as I drew to a stop. “Thought you could beat me.” He continued with a self-satisfied look.

“I thought you’d win a little more honorably Cap.” I offered as I kissed him. “You’re not a very sportsmanlike winner. That’s really a shame.”

“Oh?” he grinned, kissing me back. “And if I don’t care?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I like ‘em shameless.” I laughed. “C’mon – let’s hit the coffee shop before it gets too late.”

“What if Ember’s off tonight?” he asked, looping his arm in mine as we skated off the rink.

“We’re still going there for breakfast in the morning, call that an extra chance to see her if she’s in. Hell, if she’s got the right abilities, she’ll know we need to see her.”

He chuckled and we sat to change out our skates; him for his sneakers and me for my boots. Once we’d returned the skates we headed off for the coffee shop.

The place was empty when we went in, just Ember sitting at the counter with a book in her hand. Her curly hair softly pulled up with a scarf tied around her head. She peeked over her book, set it down and practically floated out from behind the counter to where we’d just gotten over the threshold to hug us both surprisingly tightly. “My boys!” she cooed, “I have missed you! Your adorable friend Sam is nice filler, but not anything next to my two favorite boys.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Steve chuckled, under the rib squeezing hug she had us engulfed in. “I hear you and Sam have had 2 dates already.”

“Oh that Sam, spinning tales.” She waved him off, as she pulled away. “Hot drinks tonight boys? Your pink cheeks tell me you’ve been out in this for quite a while.”

“We just came from the rink.” I offered, “I’d love a hot cocoa, make it good sweetheart, that stuff at the rink was –”

“Say no more, say no more!!” she sang. “Same for you, Steve?”

“Mm-hm. Yes please.” He replied, shucking off his gray pea coat and hanging it by the door on the coat rack.

“Anything else Stevie?” I asked as she totaled the drinks, “split a pastry?”

He smiled, “Sure.”

“Ok.” I winked at him and turned to Ember, “the strudel, it’s apple, right?” it looked amazing.

“You are correct.” She nodded “Let me warm that up for you and I’ll bring it over with your drinks.”

I settled the tab and moved over to my chosen seat against the wall. I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it across the back of chair then sat. Steve touched my knee from the small sofa he was sitting on, and then patted the seat next to him. I looked around, “Buck,” he said softly, “we were just outside in the open, skating on a public rink and sitting at a table. There were no problems. Nobody’s here and we can see the door. Would you please sit with me?” I didn’t really hesitate, just moved to sit next to him, he shuffled closer so that our thighs were touching, “I’m right here. If it gets to be too much, move. I’ll understand. I just like being able to be close.” He whispered, putting his hand back on my knee.

“I’ll be ok. It’s just a habit.”

“I know.” He looked at me, “you **will** be ok, you know.”

Just then, a brush of air at my back made me shudder, Ember brushed her fingers across my neck and the shudder turned to more of a shiver, “Sorry sweetie, didn’t mean to sneak past ya,” she whispered in my ear, her breath was warm and sweet, and the tension that had started building ebbed. She then moved around to Steve’s side to set a tray with our drinks and pastry on the table before us. She perched on the edge of the chair I’d vacated, “SO, you two abandoned me. I hope it’s been for nothing but good things.” She grinned, leaning forward, her elbows on denim-clad knees.

“Mostly good things, we’ve been adjusting.” I replied. “Stevie’s a good roommate.” I winked and she laughed. “I’m trying to be.” I added.

“Nothin’ but the best, Buck.”

“Now we both know that’s a lie. I’ve been difficult.”

“Oh if you two aren’t the cutest – you’re both probably really big pains in the ass. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I laughed, “It’s all true. Things are tough but yeah, being together helps a lot. I guess we’ve got you to thank for that, whatever hand you had in it.” I winked at her.

She came around to my side of the sofa and sat on the arm, touching my shoulder softly, “I just gave you the support you needed sweetheart. I fell for each of you the first time I met you, and I want only the best of everything for you. You’ll have it, you know. It’s well past time for that. You both deserve that.”

Steve took her hand from my shoulder and kissed it, gratitude and something else in his eyes. “From your lips to God’s ears Ember, dearest.” He smiled. “So, tell me about these dates you may or may not have had with Sam; is he being good to you?”

“Are you being good to him? Should I regret ever introducing him to your shop and to you by default?” I asked with a smirk, certain that neither of them would intentionally hurt the other.

“We’re going out again tomorrow night, if you _must_ know.” She pushed the sleeves of her rusty red sweater up to her elbows and crossed her arms, emphasizing the beauty of her proportions by exposing her waist and slightly lifting her breasts. She has to be one of the most stunning women I’ve ever had the chance to meet. She smiled a sly smile, “Then again, I’ve been so involved in you two and your romance; maybe you deserve to know more than anyone.”

“Three dates in a week? You two don’t waste any time.” I continued my tease.

“I could say the same, from a confession to cohabitation? Fellas,” she winked.

Steve’s blush was high and pink; I suspect there might have been a hint of color on my cheeks too. “Well, it made sense.” Steve defended, “we used to share an apartment, I have room and Bucky wanted to – so perfect fit.”

“Honey, you don’t have to explain a lick to me. I get it. Besides, nobody can take better care of you two than each other. It’s perfect. Perfect I say.” She smiled, leaning between us from behind the sofa, putting an arm across each of our shoulders. “You’ve had enough time lost between you; don’t ever let silly things like what I said put you on the defensive. Ya got that?  Anyone says anything – you just tell ‘em two things; you tell ‘em you’re reclaiming your lives and tell ‘em if they don’t like it they can come see me. I’m a tough little bitch, and nobody messes with my boys.” She kissed each of us on a cheek, then moved to turn the ‘closed’ sign and lock the door. “It usually takes me an hour from here, don’t you boys rush one bit. Warm up and enjoy.” She insisted as she disappeared behind the counter to clean up from the day.

“We’ll just wait until you’re ready to go then, no sense you heading out of here alone this late if we’re already here.” Steve offered.

“You’re the sweetest thing. You do know I come and go alone here in the dark all the time, right?”

“Sure. You don’t want our extended company, just say so.” He teased.

“No, no.” she laughed softly “I’d love that – forget I said anything.”

I rolled my eyes at the two of them while savoring the pastry and the most decadent cocoa imaginable. I was settling into a comfortable place, just this side of tired from a long day and an active date, having warm food and warm companionship. Their continued laughter and teasing was welcome and grounding. I sat thinking about how I really have come a long way. Admittedly I also have a long way to go – but if I could get this far, maybe things would be ok like everyone keeps insisting.

Steve’s hand landed back on my leg, “Buck, you ok to wait?”

“Sure, I was just savoring everything.” I leaned against him comfortably, placing a lazy kiss on his jaw before he could turn into it, and putting my head in the spot between his neck and shoulder. “This has been a particularly good day. Thanks for making it so.”

“Jeezus, Buck, way to make me speechless.” He chuckled. “I just wish every day could be particularly good.”

“For both of us.” I agreed. “I’ll catalog that as a way to make you speechless for when you get too wordy.” I nudged his shoulder jokingly.

We sat like that, sipping, nibbling and peacefully listening to the sounds of Christmas music flooding the shop mixed with sounds of cleaning up and winding down to a close until the lights dimmed and Ember picked up our tray. “Ok boys. Time to go.” She slid it behind the counter as Steve rose and crossed to the coat-rack by the door. “I’ll deal with that in the good ole’ AM.” She tossed my jacket at me which I caught as it sailed at my head.

“You’re usually so sweet.” I complained standing and slipping into the coat as she laughed heartily. She walked past and reached to grab my shoulder but was just out of reach; I waggled my brows and blew her a kiss.

Steve already had his coat on and was holding out a yellow wool pea coat for Ember, “Yours?” he questioned, holding it for her to duck into. She spun into her coat in that way girls have then patted his cheek.

“Thank you, kind sir. Don’t get many gentlemen around these days. I’m keeping you for sure.” She turned to hug me as I got closer, “You, I’ll think about.”

“You’re a hell of a tease. You love me and you’ve already admitted it.”

“Gods yes… I do at that.” She breathed what might be an exasperated sigh.

Steve threw an arm around each of us, “Now you know how I feel.” He joked, pulling me closer and holding tighter. My contented mood swelled into something even more pleasant.

She locked up the shop and we were off to walk her home, “You guys are ridiculous you know?!” she grinned.

“You’d best humor him,” I offered, “you won us over and now you’re stuck. What’s your secret Ember?”

“Oooh Bucky, which one, which one?” she sang.

“Pick one?”

“Your curiosity isn’t as idle as that answer James. You want to know **what** I am. What I can do?”

“What you are? You’re a beautiful spirit in an equally stunning package… what you can do? The thought did come up. What _can_ you do?” I asked – my not so idle curiosity getting the best of me.

She took a deep breath, “I guess if I have to make this confession hour, you two not-so-normal people are the perfect audience. I’m an empath. It doesn’t always do me a shit ton of good. I feel the emotions of others. Some pretty strong, others not so much, you two are off the charts. I can’t really **do** anything. I have learned to gauge how to proceed when someone’s emotions are in a certain place. Not powers, just years of observation and skill with words. Plus I’m a phenomenal flirt.” She laughed “I **did** grow up in a Wiccan home and I have a protection spell on my shop. Some people believe in that, others don’t.”

“Do you?” Steve asked, not judging, more to make a point to her.

“Oh, absolutely, otherwise why waste the energy? I might always seem like a bundle of it to you, but there are days, you might not have noticed but there are a lot of negative people. That’s a drain on my energy. I’m not even talking about my mood energy, I mean physically.” She shuddered, making herself smaller in her coat momentarily before bouncing on the balls of her feet, “Do you remember when I was buzzing with energy and I was going by Aspen for a second time around? You do remember don’t you?”

“I do.” I grinned, “That’s the day you conned us into confessing our love.”

“I conned nobody. You two were angsty and lovesick and the day was right.” She whirled around, “You guys were ready. You were **surging** with it!”

“I was in denial and terrified.” Steve said.

“I’d only just remembered. Like a single stone removed from a cave-in trickling a ray light in then all of a sudden the barrier collapsed letting too much light in at once. I was ready to run away.”

“Instead you came to the safety of my shop, to my protected little haven. I already knew your love was there, from the first time I saw you two, when I met you, Steve. Oh but I really felt it when you two came in at the same time to run away from your feelings. It’s almost like I drew you there but I swear to you I did no such thing” She was looking at me, hesitant, “at least not consciously.”

“I know you wouldn’t do anything like influence anyone – is that even something you can do?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t think so. If I did, it was beyond my noticing. Oh hell, I don’t want that ability, too much responsibility, and too much invasion.” Her look of dread was too much. “Bucky – don’t put ideas like that out there for me to think about!!”

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I was just repeating something you said. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” I wrapped her in my arms, “I really don’t want you to worry about this. You’re so kind, you wouldn’t –”

“He’s right Ember.” Steve wrapped arms around her and held onto me, “You’re so kind and responsible. I know you’re worried but **don’t**. Besides,” he pulled away with a small smile, “that was all just speculation.”

“I guess.”

“No, not ‘I guess’. We both feel relaxed and comfortable in your place and you’re soothing company, so of course when we needed comfort and soothing we thought to go to you. You had no control over when I’d have a nightmare or when this one would get the truth beat into him by Sam.”

“Thank you.” She said with the smallest voice I’ve ever heard squeak out from her enormous personality. “Really, thank you.” Her voice sounded slightly stronger, just not quite like her usual self. “I often wonder that – if I’m influencing people or just skilled with handling the emotions. I don’t know if I’d know either way. I’d hate it if that was a thing.”

“I know, Ember. It’s ok. Being conflicted about what you want and what you think you are. It’s ok.” I tightened my arms around her. “You’re not influencing me – I’d know. Your gift is having other people flood you with feelings, and being a healing spirit you have figured out how to work with those emotions to soothe them or to encourage them. Your entire presence is soothing, so people flock to you. You are a delight and I’ll tell that to anyone who asks. Not to mention, you just aren’t duplicitous, you couldn’t influence someone without both you and them being aware of it.”

She was shaking, “you were afraid of it.” She was crying.

“I’m always afraid of it. Ok? So I had a moment. I’ve had worse moments, ask this one.” I shoved into Steve who was still wrapped around us. “Complete meltdown. So don’t you worry. You cause me nothing but joy. And a little discomfort right now because of the tears.” I kissed her cheek. “You gonna be ok?”

She sniffled and Steve loosened his grip, digging a fresh pressed handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her with a kiss of his own on her other cheek. “Great, you guys are making me cry!” she smiled through a sob. “Gentlemen with handkerchiefs.”

“Don’t look at me, that’s him. He went from fresh pressed 1945 to fresh pressed 21st century. I had to learn to live with whatever’s handy. There might be a wrinkled up napkin from your shop in one of the pockets of this jacket if you’re lucky.”

She laughed, a true and real ringing laugh.

“So, you’re ok?” Steve smiled at her adoringly.

“I’m always ok in the long run Steve.” She turned between us, still in my arms and hugged him tightly. She turned back to me with the same gesture. “I’ll be fine. Bucky, we’ll be fine.” She pulled out of my arms and hooked her arms in ours to continue on to her place.

“I’m inclined to believe you.” I grinned.

“This never happened.” She smiled and we both agreed.

After we saw her safely home with promises to see her again for breakfast, we made our own way home huddling together to keep warm in the chill, a peaceful, contented silence surrounding us and once we were home, we both crashed.

Back to the flowers though, he was in the kitchen adding color to his painting, the ice rink. I’d grinned happily when he had showed me the original sketch that he was transferring to the canvas. I was in the middle of fixing breakfast when the delivery came. “You wanna get that?” we both said from the middle of our tasks. I rolled my eyes and smiled – being closest, I moved to get the door. “I got it.” with a towel in hand to wipe the food evidence from my hands I opened the door to a shit-ton of flowers engulfing the young girl carrying them.

“Flowers for Barnes.” She said, distractedly.

“That’s me, here let me get that.” I tucked the towel into the back pocket of my jeans and took the hefty basket full of blooms to set them on the counter before digging a tip out of the pocket of my jacket hanging by the door. “Thank you so much.”

“Have a nice day mister.” Was all she said, but she had a smile that wasn’t there before.

“And you.” I called after her as she disappeared down the stairs. I came back to the flowers, the card stuck deep in the center of the colorful bouquet.  I pulled it out and written on it in his handwriting were four words.

                “Here’s  
                your  
                fucking  
                flower.”

Well if the delivery didn’t give me a huge smile, that card had been guaranteed to make me laugh out loud. Both things happened actually. Steve was doing his best stoic indifferent act when I wrapped myself around him from behind and kissed his ear. “Thank you Stevie, thank you.” His posture melted and he set his brush down, crossing his arms over mine.

“I love you Buck.”

“Love you too. So are you ready to come away from this masterpiece to have breakfast? It’s just about ready.”

“I’ll get the plates.”

Happily, the month that’s passed has been filled with more of these moments now that I’ve figured out an active avoidance protocol. I know that’s not entirely healthy but I’m starting to work on leaving that method behind. I have been entertaining thoughts of “what if” and creating positive prospective outcomes instead of instantly letting the negative option flood my thoughts. On the way to the gym each day I stop, breathe in the cold winter air and for a mere 15 minutes per day I think about attending a meeting and facing the words that haunt me or I think about being in a courtroom and I craft my testimony. I also have a plan B. It is not the preferred option. Steve still doesn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ice Skating Date Night](http://www.artofmanliness.com/2013/01/16/ice-skating-date-night/) these inspired the date idea, I love the idea of Steve and Bucky cuddly and warm.


	18. Hang a Shining Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky buys a Christmas tree which he and Steve decorate.  
> There's kissing and fluff

I put a lot of thought and time into just what I could do to make this Christmas the best. Initially I knew that just being together and warm was putting this year in the lead, since the last Christmas we had been together was in the cold battlefields of Europe and to be honest, I don’t remember it. I just knew it was in the cold battle fields of Europe, which is like saying ‘probably not one of the better ones’, although I imagine being surrounded by the Commandos might have warmed things up a notch.

I was determined, though, to have a “no newspaper” Christmas.

> One year I was able to score a tree – a tiny, scrawny thing that we set up on the kitchen table. I’d hustled to get away at the whistle that signaled the end of the shift. I needed to cross town to a more affluent area to look for some guy hawking trees. I watched this stout guy haggling with people who could have bought every tree from the truck with just a ring they were wearing or the warm fur that they huddled under. Guy was just making a living, they were cheating him. I had to haggle too when I saw the tree being tossed off the truck into the muddy snow. I knew it was destined to be kindling or something so I offered the guy a cut above the price for some proper firewood. He looked at me like I was taking food from his starving baby or something, “C’mon – you know you’re going to burn the thing or sell it as kindling. What I’m offerin is more than I’d pay for firewood back home. I’ve got the burden of dragging it home, all wet and muddy. You get cold, hard cash.” His fake scowl disappeared.
> 
> “You really want that sorry thing? Haul it outta here and it’s yours. Merry Christmas, pal.”
> 
> “Y’mean you don’t want anything for it?”
> 
> “You seem ta really want the thing, you’re right ya know, it’s just kindling after all. Scrawny thing ain’t worth my time really.”
> 
> “Pal, I saw those rich folks swindlin’ ya. Take the firewood money, I won’t feel good about being another cheat.”
> 
> We tore newspaper pages into strips and sacrificed some flour for paste to make haphazard paper chains to trim it with. Steve spent time from his sick-bed when he wasn’t feeling too sleepy or dizzy cutting snowflakes from the remaining newsprint. It wasn’t an ugly tree; it actually seemed to have filled out nicely.
> 
> “Some tree you got there, Buck.” He coughed, “It dreams of growing up to be a stick… it’s too scrawny.”
> 
> “I like scrawny, that’s just a cover. Scrawny tells the assholes to stay away. Scrawny knows when to really shine and man, Stevie, those snowflakes really did the trick! Look how it doesn’t look quite so stick-like and the green really stands out!”
> 
> “I’ll take your word for that pal, but it does seem to have settled now that it’s warmed up from its mud bath.” He coughed some more, always making my gut clench and my mind race with worry. “Can’t believe you actually _paid_ some guy so you could drag a muddy dead tree across the fucking boroughs. It **is** a nice addition.”
> 
> “You got a way with words, punk.”
> 
> We also wrapped the gifts we scrounged up and made for one another with newspaper. It was festive to use the holiday advertisements and tie them with scraps of yarn from Steve’s Ma’s knitting basket. That’s all those ads were good for, that and taunting us with things we’d never have.

I am still a first class scrounge, still out of necessity, but this time around I went one better. I purchased the fattest, fullest tree that I could find that would fit up the stairwell and stand inside the apartment without bending the top boughs. I paid the guy to deliver it to us and when it arrived I hauled it in while Steve was out. I had spent far too many hours watching videos on how to string lights on the tree and I had all of that information crowding my head so I set to work stringing lights like a design pro, tying the wires to individual boughs and cursing every time a needle jabbed me in the eye. If I had Christmas music playing in the background it was just to remind me that every needle prick was going to be worth it. If I was singing the songs that were playing in the background, it was just so words other than “fuck” tumbled from my mouth.

I’d found decorations at a handful of thrift stores, I picked the reddest and greenest ball ornaments, tangles of brightly colored tinsel garland and made the greatest discovery of a glass star tree topper in a really trendy ‘vintage’ shop. I looked at the sticker on the box and about passed out. I picked it up anyway, turning it over in my hands, the tinkle that it made as it touched the metal of my left hand made me smile. The thing has to be as old as Steve and me, I can’t even imagine the house it had come from, the holidays it’d presided over. I’d seen plastic versions in the thrift stores and had walked away. I turned it again and felt the sting of a cut on my right thumb. I looked closer; there were small wounds in the glass where pieces had fallen out. “Excuse me,” I approached the girl who was chomping gum and flipping through apps on her phone. “This tree topper, it’s broken in places – I’m pretty sure the price on here is for one in top condition.”

“Hm. That thing?” she was distracted then she grinned almost maniacally. “Oh thaaat thing. Tell you what. Bastard deserves it. You say it’s broken?”

I showed her the small breaks with the missing shards. “Yup, just a little. I’m guessing if you were to look something like this up on ebay, you’d see $300+ is for something that won’t draw blood.” I showed her my thumb that was still radiating that sting, a tiny spot of blood sealing the wound.

“Like I said, bastard deserves it. Whaddya think it’s worth?”

What did I think it was worth? To me, it was worth more than I had at my disposal. It was history, something we would have both coveted from a shop window, and it was scarred yet still beautiful. It was priceless. What would someone not insanely emotionally attached to a fragile piece of broken shimmer think it was worth? “Who are you tryin’ ta swindle?” I asked instead.

“Bastard boss. Ex. Cheatin’ son of a bitch.” She said with a lot of rage and tears shining, as she turned her phone to show me a guy with a girl.

“Doesn’t know he’s your ex yet?” I guessed. “I don’t much like cheating people, but this kind of cheating is actually fucked up.”

“Y’know what, you’re right. It is. No, he doesn’t know he’s my ex yet but when I tell him I sold it to some hot, hot guy for just thirty bucks, it’ll be worth it. Does thirty bucks sound ok to you?”

“Sounds like you work here and you have the power. You won’t get hurt for this?”

“No, he’s a bastard but he’s not a psycho.”

Thirty dollars for a fragile, shimmering piece of glass that made me resist the urge to rush. I shouldered my bag full of ornaments and protectively carried the box in front of me like an offering.

When Steve came into the apartment to see the tree standing in the middle of the room, all lit up, I was sitting in front of it, painstakingly untangling the tinsel garland. At first I had spared it and the asshole who decided to buy it and untangle it (me) a string of curse words, every other one being “fuck” or some conjugation of my favorite verb. As I started to see the pattern of the tangle it became a relaxing endeavor. So there I was, draped with lengths of untangled garland, a veritable knot in my hands, slowly working through the mess when he stood in the doorway, door open. “Buck?”

I looked up, “hmm?”

“What’s all this?”

“Best damned tree I could find!” I smiled. He looked at me like I had two heads. “Christmas, Stevie. It’s a Christmas. Tree.”

“I can see that, I didn’t know we were getting a tree.” Well I like that, I was now second-guessing my entire day.

“We didn’t talk about it but I remembered the newspaper tree and I didn’t want another sad or forgotten Christmas between us.”

“Newspaper tree?” At least he was curious, maybe I could salvage this.

“Yeah surely I didn’t make it up – a scrawny muddy tree that I dragged home one year when you were sick, when weren’t you sick at Christmas really, Steve? But we made newspaper garland and - ”

“And I cut out snowflakes from more newspaper. You remembered. So you did all this?” his face suddenly alight with joy and incredulity.

“Well, we have been out, haven’t you noticed it is Christmas?”

“I guess I am aware of it, but it was always so hard, I just stopped paying attention.”

“Hey, not any more you won’t. We’re together, we got each other, we don’t have anything pressing just now and I bought this plump tree. I hope that’s not a problem?” I still (or again) felt like I might have overstepped, like he didn’t want this in his house.

“Oh – no, Bucky no, it’s not a problem. Just the biggest goddamned surprise I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

“I thought we could decorate it together, like we always tried to do, always talked about doing. I got some pretty great decorations, as you can tell.” I held up the knot I was trying not to crush from my anxiety over possibly screwing things up.

He came to his knees in front of me, “Bucky, you are the greatest. This tree, it’s fucking huge.” He put his hands on my face and kissed me, “it’s beautiful and this is the best gift ever. You look so festive, with your plush garland and all these little shiny slivers all in your hair.” He chuckled, running his fingers over the garland on my shoulders then trailing his fingers through my hair. He was right, little fake needles fell like confetti over our shoulders and into my already glittering lap.

I pulled him forward, forcing him to brace his hands on my shoulders to keep from barreling into me and I kissed him deeply, aggressively. His eager response was heady as we lost ourselves in the kiss, tongues fucking into mouths, teeth scraping lips, the knot of tinsel nearly crushed in my lap concealing my erection. Goddammit Bucky, this is not where this is supposed to go. Not yet. Control your damn self. “Now, as long as you’re ok with the tree?” I breathed, waiting for his head to clear and for his approving nod, “help me put it together right. On the sofa, my bag; it’s got the decorations, wanna grab it?” I found the end of the garland and pulled it through the final loop, unraveling the final knot and rose, arousal in check, to lay the lengths of it carefully on the floor out of danger of being stepped on.

He set the bag on the floor near the tree, “Hmm.” He inhaled, “the whole room smells like the forest – but not as much as right here.”

The look of bliss on his face brought a smile to mine. “It is nice; it’s even worth being scratched up by those bastard needles all afternoon.” I started pulling the ornaments from the duffel bag, one plastic thrift store bag at a time and handed him two, keeping the other two for myself, “would you start pulling those out, check and make sure they survived the trip home?”

We inspected each ball as we pulled them out, putting the shades of green together and putting the red ones together, apparently this was important since I just followed his lead. Curiosity got the better of me, “What’s the plan here with the colors?”

“Well, it’ll be easier to access the color we need, you can’t just throw them on the tree, Buck.”

“I guess you have a point. I just thought they’d mix well – can’t figure it makes that much of a difference.”

Was I wrong!

“Hey, you did get hooks for these, right?”

“Yeah, they’re probably in the bottom of the bag.” I dug through and found the packages of hooks the clerk had given me. “I’ll do that while you organize – are you cataloging too?”

“ha ha.” He turned to me, “you carry on there – I’m gonna fix something to eat, trust me?”

“Yeah, with food, no doubt – it’s this color thing I’m doubting. You sure you trust me?”

“Not in the least. Just put the hooks on the ornaments – don’t mix the greens.”

“Wow! Maybe I should handle the food then if that’s how you’re going to be.” I shoved at him and he lost his balance from crouching in front of the tree. I grabbed his hand before he hit the floor – mostly concerned about the red decorations he might have crushed – and pulled him back upright and we both laughed. “Never mind, get your graceful ass into the kitchen.”

He stood and brushed his hands on the thighs of his jeans still chuckling, “I like how you abuse me and then accuse me of being clumsy” he griped as he started pulling items from the refrigerator, “wine with whatever I find?”

“Yes please.” I rearranged a few green ornaments to screw with him, and continued to put hooks on the lot of them.

He returned with a plate piled with fruit and cheeses and two wine glasses disproving the clumsy comments (which are wholly unfounded by the way) without a doubt. I liberated one of the glasses watching him lower himself, his glass and the plate to the floor. “Baby, you’re anything but clumsy.” I told him as he set the plate between us. We mock toasted one another with a sip of the sweet wine he’d selected. He kissed me lightly, tasting of the wine with a mix of fruit he’d been sampling as he’d prepared the food.

We munched on the cheeses and fruits while we put the balls on the tree, “What’s going on here? I swear Buck, you’ve mixed up the greens. How did you manage – ?” my wink and grin caught him mid-rant.

“You know, I think I liked color-blind Steve better.” I complained back at him. Of course my initial sabotage didn’t spare me from the rest of the activity being blamed for intentionally putting two reds too close together or the wrong green in the wrong spot. “I’ll stick with the gold ones then – surely I can’t fuck those up.” I teased “I definitely miss color-blind Steve.”

“You’re impossible.” He had two of the offending colors – one in each hand – as he wrapped his arms around me from behind giving me kisses on my neck. Still wrapped around me he put them where he thought they should belong.

“I don’t see any difference.” I turned to kiss him. “You’re the impossible one.”

He turned me back around “Look, it’s beautiful.”

I moved one of the ornaments again, “hmm... still beautiful.” I challenged and he fixed it _again_. “You on a power trip or somethin’ Cap?”

“Fuck you Barnes. I’m an _artiste_!”

“You’re somethin’ alright.” We giggled together. “Ok we gotta get our shit together, I spent too much time unraveling that –” I pointed at the labyrinth of garland “– to have us fuck it up and get it all tied into knots again.”

“Can I be trusted? I think an artist’s hands aren’t meant for menial work, I should supervise and kibitz.” He offered, standing back with one hand on his hips, one holding his wine glass, looking like a king surveying his kingdom.

I reached for my own glass on the shelf, took a moment to take in the sight of the tree and him with a real smile on his face. The moment was worth all the dark moments in the middle of the night, worth all of his nightmares and mine. “I don’t believe a little menial labor has ever hurt anyone. Besides, if I have to do it myself, I might get something dreadfully wrong and you’ll just have to do it all over again.”

We moved the mostly empty plate and our wine glasses to the counter and started to place the garland. He was no less ridiculous in the “how-to-and-why” of the right amount of drape. “if you let it dip too much here and not enough there it’ll look funny. C’mon Buck get it together.”

I turned to look at him, finding a lopsided grin resting on his face, the tree lights adding to the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I wrapped a length around him and again. “If I tie you up with it we won’t have to worry about draping. Seriously. I **will** find a tape measure and start giving you mathematical equations for your perfect drape if you want to take **all** the fun out of it.”

His smile deepened, he spread his arms then dropped them to his sides, the loosened garland falling to his feet. “Pitiful restraints Barnes, later I’ll have to show you how it’s done.”

“Oh?” I took the front of his shirt in my fist, pulling him to me. “I look forward to your instruction.”

He took my hair at the back of my head into his fist, crushing his mouth on mine fiercely, kissing and biting; our tongues clashing. He let go of my hair and trailed his hand along my neck to hold my jaw in his hand. He pulled back looking at me “later.” He promised then bent to retrieve the dropped garland.

I smacked his ass, it was too tempting to not really, getting a bogus glare in response when he handed me the end of the garland, “back to work it is.” I laughed. We finished wrapping/draping the tree, and the next thing I knew he was on the floor lying on his back – his head under the bottom boughs. “What _are_ you doing down there Sunshine?”

“Tucking the end so it doesn’t hang out. Come down here.” I just stood with my hands on my hips looking at him. “Really, Buck, come lie down here for just a minute, take a look.

“You didn’t spike your wine with that shit of Thor’s and not give me any did you? You buzzed?”

“Lie down on the floor by me for just a goddamned minute you ass.” His words came out exasperated but affectionate. I positioned myself at his side, sliding my head under the tree and looked at him. Our eyes met and he grinned before giving me a peck on the lips. “Look up.” He whispered reverently.

He took my hand in his. “It’s beautiful, you’re right.” I gasped. We stayed that way, lying under the tree together for quite some time while Christmas classics, both old and new, were streaming from the stereo.

“Through the years we all will be together  
If the fates allow  
Hang a shining star upon the highest bow,” we both crooned along with the carol. “Fuck I almost forgot” I added at the prompt.

“Buck I’m pretty sure there’s not a version with that line in it.” He chuckled as I scrambled out from under the tree and to my feet. He sat up as well.

I went around the tree to the shelf wall where the box had been safely waiting, the once-white box with a pull-off lid whose corners had been taped decades ago, he was just getting to his feet as I rounded the tree again. I knew I had an idiotic smirk on my face. I couldn’t help it, giddy with an unfamiliar feeling of excitement.

“What have you done?” His question was careful, cautious.

“I didn’t _do_ anything. I did _find_ something wonderful.” My foolish attachment to the star in the box was practically tangible. “What’s the tree missing Steve?” he looked it up and down, no doubt assessing the placement of the colors one last time. He had the _audacity_ to shrug?! “Steve, it’s missing the crowning glory!”

He continued to look at the tree “Oh yeah, you mean like a star or angel right?”

“Listen, I’m the Dory in this relationship. Wise up asshole.” Then I grinned – my excitement burning off all of the frustration he was purposely fueling. “Like a Star.” I removed the lid and inverted it beneath the box, nestling the two together. It was even prettier in the light of the room, the fairy lights twinkling on the tree reflected off of its fragile surface. “It’s old. Like us. It’s broken. Like us.”

“It’s perfect” his awed voice was a whisper away from me, he touched the smooth glass.

“Maybe not perfect, but for us, maybe perfect enough?”

“Bucky, look at it. It’s perfect. We could never have dreamed of having something so fine.” That he felt as I had, was clear.

I said aloud what I’d been thinking all the way home with it that morning, “If we use it, it might shatter. If we don’t it’ll just remain hidden away forever and that would be a shame.”

“Yeah, it would be a shame not to take the chance. We’ll just be careful and everything will be perfect.”

“Damn star is becoming a metaphor – great.” I snorted, only half serious. “Who am I kidding? It was a metaphor when I bought it. It’s kind of what made me want it.”

“Do you want the honor? It’s because of you we have this.”

No, I didn’t want the honor of hanging the star; I wanted the honor of watching as he placed it. “No I’ve been thinking about you putting a proper star on a proper tree since you first pinned a painted paper star on the wall back when a tree was the least likely thing to ever come into our celebrations. You should do it.” Sometimes memories just appear and they feel normal. Sometimes they hit me like a sock in the gut and even the prettiest ones can make me nauseous. My memories hit him in different ways too. The top three (in no particular order) visual reactions are pain, joy and reverence.

His reaction this time was the latter. The look of reverence that he laid at my feet wasn’t for a glass trinket, or for the wish of him doing a task, it was for the memory of a Christmas lifetimes ago. I could thrust his reactions to my memories back at him, translate pain to pity, resent his joy and mock his reverence or I could hold them closer and take them as intended. I know they’re always rooted in the purity of his love so I do the sometimes painful thing and I hold them. Of course this time there was no pain; it was joy I felt as he gingerly took the star from the threadbare satin covered form in the box. “Careful – the broken areas might cut you.” I held up my healed thumb for some stupid reason.

He took my hand, looked at my thumb and kissed it “looks fine to me.”

“I know. It was this morning and it was small… don’t ask.”

The star on top of the tree was perfect, the line of his body as he stretched to place it there was no less so. I was there behind him when he stepped back, I put my arms around him and he leaned back just slightly and crossed his arms over mine. “It’s perfect now. Right?” he hummed.

“You’re the artist.” I murmured into his shoulder.

He turned to look at me, put his arms around me and smiled, “you really brought Christmas home this time Buck.”

“It is picture-perfect, isn’t it? Just the right amount of everything and perfectly positioned color arrangement.” I teased.

“The star is the best part. We could have been done hours ago and just put that on the lighted tree. It’s perfect, where did you find it?”

“Some hipster vintage shop. I got the ‘my boyfriend’s cheating on me’ special. Don’t discount all of my other decorative finds though, those red and several shades of green balls make the tree extra glitzy.”

“You’ve got me there. They are part of the excellence.” He kissed me tenderly, “Thank you Bucky – this is beautiful.”

I carded my fingers through his hair, “It was important to me to do this. I wish I could explain why.”

“It’s Christmas.” His hands chilled my belly where he lifted the hem of my shirt. “I’m unwrapping the best gift early.” He said into another kiss.

“Only by one day, I’ll be your Christmas Eve gift.” I offered willingly.


	19. Hydra's House Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here?” I growled “What do you want?”
> 
> The man falling at Steve’s feet groaned “hail hydra” as his life gurgled out of him behind the horrid pledge.
> 
> The man at the muzzle of my gun smiled instead of answering. I was done for if I didn’t act fast, I squeezed the trigger and it registered with me that he was doing the same.... Steve tackled me to the ground, “Bucky NO.” he cried
> 
> \-----

Three days before the New Year – a year I was able to finally look forward to – I startled awake. First I thought Steve was having a nightmare, but he was soundly sleeping with a smile on his face. Then I thought maybe I’d been jolted from my own dreams but I couldn’t recall anything stressful. Sure, I felt anxious and alert so I started to tune into the sounds of the room; faithful clock on the wall tick,tock,tick,tock – the damned thing was a nuisance. His even breathing, on the other hand, was not a nuisance at all. I focused further – out into the rest of the apartment. There was something, another whisper of a sound.

I crept out of bed, climbing over him and settling my feet silently on the thick pile of the rug that was on his side. We were going to have to straighten that rug out; I was getting tired of coming out of the bed to the cold hardwood. I pulled the drawer of the bureau open, thank god it was a new piece and not a squeaky old antique, and we’ll examine that statement at some other time. I pulled the SIG from under his supply of pressed handkerchiefs, and worked my way silently to the bedroom door. The door would be too loud and knowing this before turning the knob had me primed and ready.

I turned the knob and the door creaked open and directly on the other side was a figure in black. I grabbed him by the throat, looking around the room for others and fired across the room while choking the fight and the life out of the one in the crook of my arm. The shot I fired woke Steve as I charged across to the door to my room, barely being missed by a bullet and taking the knees of a third man out from under him – the door came down on top of us and was yanked off before it clamored to the floor. The second man, the one I’d shot, was fighting Steve with the last of his life and the one beneath me had me locked in a bizarre standoff, both our guns trained on the other and ready to fire. “What are you doing here?” I growled “What do you want?”

The man falling at Steve’s feet groaned “hail hydra” as his life gurgled out of him behind the horrid pledge.

The man at the muzzle of my gun smiled instead of answering. I was done for if I didn’t act fast, I squeezed the trigger and it registered with me that he was doing the same. In the same moment, Steve’s shield sliced between us, knocking the man’s gun away from my midsection as both weapons discharged. My shots hit the man, his shot hit the ceiling as Steve tackled me to the ground, “Bucky NO.” he cried.

“I’m ok Steve, I’m ok.” I breathed rapidly, holding his head to my chest, feeling the tremors of his weeping. “I’m ok, you got that?”

He sat up, taking my face in his hands, looking me over, “what the hell just happened?”

I ducked my forehead to his, “nightmare.” I laughed wryly.

“I don’t think I like the idea that “dreams come true” any more.” He grinned wearily, I stood up and held my hand out to him. He took it, the fact that he still has no ill feelings about casually touching my metal arm will never cease to comfort me. I’ve said it time and again; the damned thing is a piece of work – it is the only thing I don’t regret about the whole ordeal with the people who forced it on me. But that he doesn’t fear or despise it makes me happy. He looked me over once more before retrieving his shield and bolting out into the hallway. I heard nothing of footsteps or movement coming from outside the apartment, his stealthy steps leading him one of two directions - the stairs or the roof.

I followed, stepping over a body, peering around the corner, weapon again trained. I took the back stairs to the roof, seeing nothing along the way – nothing on the roof. I looked down to the street, saw his head poke out into the deep lavender morning light before stepping onto the sidewalk. He looked around then up. I gave him the all clear from up top. He saluted and circled the building before coming back inside. We met up back in the apartment.

“They know where I am.” I frowned.

“They’ll know you’re not going without a fight.” He stared at me for a long time, “you’re not going anywhere.”

“You need to tell your team.” I was resigned, the year was up, and we were going to be moving forward, now it would just be sooner than I was ready for.

“Are you ok with that?” his concern touched me as much as his fear that I’d been shot just moments ago had.

“Not remotely, but I’m less ok with this.” I turned on the light to survey the damage, the door to my room was lying on the floor between the two bodies, the third (first downed) was across the apartment sprawled across the threshold of our room. Steve must have leapt over him.

“What really happened?” he asked again.

“I thought I’d heard something that startled me awake – the door opening maybe. I never identified it just went with the gut feeling.”

“Now you know why I don’t care about the swollen door jambs and the squeaky hinges.”

“Well if this one had been less squeaky we’d have less noise to worry about covering up in the form of gunfire.”

He turned the television on loudly as I said it, queuing up an action movie at the worst possible volume. “Just in case anyone comes to the door.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell them this” I gestured the room, “is roleplay?”

“I wouldn’t swing the front door wide open you jackass.” He kissed my cheek and forehead, “god I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

“I can still hold my own. I might have had an extra hole in my body but I did actually take them all out.”

“I don’t ever doubt you can hold your own, I know you can. You don’t have to want to.”

“Oh I **don’t** want to. Believe me peace was looking nice there, but maybe I’ve been getting too complacent.”

“That shouldn’t even be a thing. You should be able to settle in to a peaceful life. Christ Buck, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

“Yeah, what about you? Did you really sign on to a lifetime of being a soldier?”

“I guess, new body, I kinda did.”

“Well – then.” I touched his chest, holding his gaze, “I guess I’m sharing you and your body with the world.”

“I guess I need to make a call.”

“I’m calling Sam.”

“Ok. Bucky? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be – we didn’t expect company to put a rush on our plans.”

He wandered to the kitchen away from the noise of the movie and I stepped over the body to move into the bedroom.

“Hey, Sam?” I waited for his groggy acknowledgment, “Um, yeah – so – I’m sorry to wake you.”

“No worries,” he sounded the opposite of awake, “what’s wrong – are you alright?”

“No.” I breathed. “We were attacked by Hydra. In our home.”

“SHIT! I’m up. What happened.” I could almost see him hurrying to his feet.

“I was awakened, by a noise I think. Startled awake. There were three cronies – we took them out, but yeah, they’re dead on our floor as I speak.”

“Shit. You said you’re not ok, are either of you injured?”

“No, we’re both in one piece, just shaken. Steve’s calling – I think he might be talking to Natasha.”

“I’m on my way. You take whatever steps you need. Don’t disappear though. That’s not a step you’re allowed.”

“You _and_ Steve, _really_?”

“You sound panicked and you _do_ have a track record.”

“I have a home now Sam. I’ll see you when you get here.”

He hung up and I sank down onto the bed, thinking about everything. Steve and I’d had a discussion one night not long before Christmas. I had decided to put it out of my mind for a while and now it was back with a vengeance. 

 

> I’d awakened alone and cold – from the lack of a body next to me and from the blankets strewn across the floor, but mostly from the dark nightmare. I remembered icy water engulfing me but nothing more. It was not a new sensation or even a new theme but somehow the situation seemed different. I had pulled myself out of bed and was intent on finding body heat to warm me when I heard his voice in the outer rooms.
> 
> I approached him, “what the fuck?” I don’t know if I was asking why he wasn’t with me, who he was talking to or why the hell was I even awake. I just blurted out something angry because I was frustrated.
> 
> “Sam.” He’d offered by way of explanation for his phone call.
> 
> I walked to him and tucked my arms around him and buried my face in him, cold and anxious and searching. “Yeah? Telling stories about his date? Didn’t peg him as the ‘kiss-n-tell’ sort.” I didn’t bother moving my face from his chest, his arms snaked around me, he brought one hand to my head, caressing and brushing my hair out of my face.
> 
> “He was telling me about a lawyer friend who wants to take your case and thinks she can get a particular group of officials to hear your testimony. She’s confident, Buck.” I shuddered inside.
> 
> “She wants to meet me.” I moaned, tensing.
> 
> “All three of us. Sam says she is certain she can get your record expunged. He pressed her and she added that _if_ somehow they want a conviction she’s not willing to settle for anything less than “time served” considering your captivity was at the hands of the government.”
> 
> “He’s sure of this lawyer?” I looked at him, not wanting to get my hopes too high but so tired of dodging the truth.
> 
> “Are you willing to talk to Sam and me – ask questions and get answers – about this? You could ask him anything you need to know, things I didn’t think to ask.”
> 
> “Willing? Yes. Able? Well, that remains to be seen.”
> 
> “You won’t be alone.” I held him closer, the answer to all of my worries in that small promise. I needed it to be a promise.
> 
> “Promise me. I won’t be alone no matter what; I won’t have to be alone.”
> 
> “Never.”
> 
> “So. Say this thing goes sour. Say I have a way out.” I gave him a moment to soak in what I was saying, “I’m talkin’ going on the run again.”
> 
> “No.” his face, tormented and miserable, tore at me.
> 
> “Hear me out. I **won’t** go to prison and I **won’t** sit there and _let_ them kill me. Would you run with me?”
> 
> “Yes. I’d run with you.” That shocked me to my core but it pleased me as well, I’d feared I would be running on my own and my fear of being alone would become a reality, “I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I couldn’t lose you again. But that’s not even going to become an option.”
> 
> “I’ve been figuring out how to manage it. For just me and for both of us in case you agreed.”
> 
> “I agree, Buck, as long as you agree it is the very final straw.”
> 
> “But I get to make that call. If things go sour, I’m making the determination. I’m going – whether you come or not.”
> 
> “Ok. I’ll follow.” When he said this without hesitation, I knew we’d be ok somehow.

The meeting with the lawyer was set for the week after New Year’s and I was already not entirely prepared for the beginning of the rest of my life, but now it seemed life was being pushed ahead by almost two weeks.

He came in as I breathed out a harsh breath having recalled tonight’s situation again. He crawled onto the bed, settling behind me, his arms around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. “Barton’s on his way.”

“Sam is too.” I tipped my head to touch my cheek to his, “Barton huh?”

“Yeah – long story short, he’s available. Natasha is across the globe and she’s not able to get away. He knows a lot about the situation and he knows about discretion.”

“Does he know about me – being here?”

“No. He will. I wasn’t exactly sure how to get everything including the events of the night into a cohesive story over the phone. I’ll have backup explaining everything with you and Sam there.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I do.” He took my hands in his, kissed my neck and settled his chin back on my shoulder where he’d been before. “We should get dressed.” He sighed.

“Yeah.” I took a deep, deep breath, his arms tightened around me and I let it out. “We need to do that.” I squeezed his fingers in mine before moving to do just that. “Three more.” I said absently from the closet.

“Three more? Oh. Oh… Bucky, it was necessary.” He said from behind me, his hand touching my shoulder gently.

“Yeah. Always necessary.” I pulled the sweater over my head, still not looking at him, then jeans followed.

“Buck.” His hand returned to my shoulder, tugging gently trying to turn me to him. I angled my shoulder and looked over it at him, not turning to fully face him as he wanted.

“Yeah?”

He was still not dressed, he moved around to my side, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, “you did what you had to do to save both of us. They’d have tried to take you and if I failed to stop them they may have killed me to get you.” I touched his arm, removed them both gently from around me and I returned to the bed, staring at it, wanting to bury myself in it. Agitated, he yanked on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.

“I know.”

“Bucky, you can’t do this. Don’t withdraw from me, please. There’s only darkness down that road.” The desperation in his voice haunted me, I’d heard it before.

“I don’t know what you want from me Steve! I can’t embrace it. I’m trying to deal with it but they’re out there, right there.” I pointed at the body still visible in the doorway.

“I don’t want you to embrace this shit! I want you to accept that it was necessary and not shoulder the blame for it.” He stood at my side, not touching me again, just staying near me “I’d have done the same! I’d have killed them all to save you because they were going to take you and hurt you again. I’d do it.”

“How am I supposed to _not_ take the blame when even if **you** were the one to take them out – it would be **because** **of** **me**?” tears tore at my eyes. “Death just follows me. I create it.”

That was the final straw for him – he swung me around to face him and crushed me in his arms, “God damn you, you stubborn asshole.” He held on tight, “you don’t get to say that shit. You don’t get to take the blame for this. They are soldiers, they were sent in to our home! Our haven! To remove you – to take you back to their own brand of hell. They deserve to be dead – you took them too quickly god damn it. They should have struggled to find their peace.”

“Steve, no.” I sobbed the words, “no. you can’t have those ugly thoughts. You –”

“Fuck that. I’m a grown man, you can’t hide ugly things from me, I’ve **seen** ugly things. You can’t save me from seeing the evil in the world **, I’ve seen it**.” he was trembling with his rage, then just as quickly he inhaled, rubbed his hand down my back, then exhaled, calmer “What gets me through is that I believe in the good, that’s what I need you to see. There is good, you can have it – you deserve it.”

“I –” want is not strong enough to describe my desire for just that, my hesitation made him pull away, put his hands on my shoulders and practically shake me.

“Don’t you dare deny –”

“I wasn’t – I want, I need that. I was looking for the right word ‘want’ isn’t sufficient. I _want it_ Steve. Look around.”

He walked away, a determined look on his face and I felt the cold of his absence. I stood waiting for him to return not willing to follow and see the aftermath again. The noise from the movie stopped and when he came back into the room he took my hand and drew me out. The door to my room had been removed from the middle of the floor as had the bodies. The tree which was shockingly still standing had been lit. He positioned me in front of the tree with my back to the reality. “This.” He said firmly, his hand on the small of my back, “is the good. This, the things you accomplish, the dreams you create. Good memories, fun times – gifts, friends.” He continued listing things, “don’t underestimate the good in all of these things.”

“He’s right.” Sam said from behind us, he must have let himself in. “We had dinner here, just the other day, the two of you, me, and Ember. We laughed, it was joyful. That’s what we do. Are we having a crisis?”

“We are.” Steve replied softly.

“I am.” I confessed. “How? How do you pile up enough good to bury the shit? To forgive the killing?”

“You can’t put the two side by side. You are trying to live black and white in a shades-of-gray world. Just recognize that there is good and you’re entitled to it. It’s a start.”

“Nobody told me I was coming to a Christmas party.” We heard behind us.

I jumped and Steve’s soothing hand moved from where it had been resting on my back, to grab my waistband – presumably to restrain me from jumping into action at the surprise interruption. “Barton.” he greeted, congenially.

“Yeah, your gifts are over there.” Sam smirked, indicating the bodies stacked against the wall and – bless Steve – hidden behind door to my room which had been laid lengthwise and propped up to screen them from my view.

 “So.” Steve ran his free hand through his hair, “Clint, this is Bucky. Bucky, Clint.”

The other man raised an eyebrow, smiled and offered his hand. “I have a feeling there’s more.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” I muttered.

Miserably, I sat through the discussion of who I was, what I’d been and what had happened. I would have found solace on the roof or under the blankets on our bed if I’d had any say I the matter. Instead, I had to own up to this – open up to yet another person about things I hardly reconcile about myself.

Barton looked at me with something like understanding in his crystal clear eyes. I couldn’t make out judgment no matter how hard I tried to put it there. His face was set in a stoic guise but in the eyes, the worst of my deeds were pulled out of filed information in Steve’s head as he did the telling, and there was nothing but empathy.

“We’ve got meetings in the next couple of weeks to help Bucky get back into the world.” Steve offered in explanation for the need for secrecy.

“Well the timing for this seems just a little too coincidental if that’s the case.” Clint said, causing the rest of us to exchange glances.

Sam moved to the kitchen and pulled out his phone. He started sending text messages rapidly, “I trust her, guys. She might be in danger too.” He said in explanation. He called Ember, “hey – yeah, I was just checking in. How’s your day starting out? --- Oh, good! Yeah, things are a little crazy over here but we’re good. --- No, don’t go out of your way, listen, how about I pick it up instead? --- No not at all, I think a break is in order. Can you have enough for four hungry men ready? Thanks sweetheart.”

When he came back in – “My friend’s ok, she’s going to ditch her phone. In other news – barely dodged a bullet, Ember knows something’s not right and wanted to come bring breakfast and to check on everyone. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Be careful Sam. Just in case.” I called after him as he left the apartment, receiving a wave in reply.

“Well, we should get rid of this.” Steve said after the door closed. “Did you see anything when you came in Clint?”

“Completely quiet – but I don’t expect it to stay that way – if these guys don’t report back” he looked at me “would you guess there’d be reinforcements?”

“Yes.” I shuddered and sighed, suddenly, an idea came to me; sacrificing my plan b if I did it – no place to run.  “Maybe I can do something to prevent that.” I went to the bodies – focused on my plan, focused only on retrieving one of their phones or com units. I found a phone and thumbed through it quickly, discovering the code system being used – still something I had access to in my memories. I sent information that the “target has fled - information found pointing to destination” [I sent the coordinates to my safe-house. My plan b. The place that would be turned to ash the minute someone (who wasn’t me) triggered the intricate security system.] “In pursuit.” – response received: “affirmative”. I crushed the phone in my hand – clenching and unclenching both fists, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Buck.” Steve called, hesitantly, from across the room.

“It’s done. I think I bought us some time.” I turned away from the bodies, scrubbing the tears from my face, focusing on the glow of the tree, but not missing the pensive looks on the faces of two avengers. “Sent them on a wild goose chase.” I offered a half-assed smirk and they both laughed. It was the sound of coping in a stressful situation, the sound that starts out just this side of strained and morphs into something closer to giddiness.

We worked together removing the bodies; luckily the building was mostly empty with people going about their normal 9-5 work day jobs. We got them to the alley where a nondescript pickup with a shell on the back was practically wedged in. “nice wheels Barton.” Steve and I said simultaneously.

“Nobody’s going to notice this hunk rattling down the roads.” He chuckled. “It’ll get them where they need to go.”

“Yeah, unnoticeable, once it’s no longer jammed into a narrow alley.” I criticized good-naturedly.

“I backed it up to the door, what more do you want?” he grinned.

“It’ll do.” I replied, Steve clapped me on the back, a smile on his face.

“I hear breakfast is on its way, we should get back upstairs and see about that.” Steve added, guiding me to the door. “You ok Buck?” he asked softly as we entered the hallway.

“I guess I will be. I’m tired.” I admitted.

“Rude awakening.” He added.

“One of the worst kinds.” Clint offered as he pulled the door closed behind him.

We were back in the apartment, cleaning up blood and Clint was seeing about putting the door back on its hinges when Sam came in – bearing paradise in paper bags. He thrust a cold bag at me, “This is yours. Stop making such an impression on my girl.” But there was no malice in the tone or the look on his face.

I opened it to a cup filled with whipped cream – probably for my breakfast – and an icy cold coffee concoction laden with yet more cream. “I’m really going to have to spend more time at the gym if she keeps this up.”

“You don’t have to eat it every time.” Steve remarked from the kitchen counter. “Looks like pancakes for you – someone broke the waffle maker Buck.” He teased, handing everyone their breakfasts.

“Oh yes I do. It’s my one joy.”

“Well I’m offended.” The teasing continued, I looked at the others, wondering just how uncomfortable they were about now, but they just laughed with us. Steve proceeded to tell Sam about what he’d missed while he was gone.

“Ember and I were together when Bucky called, she knew more about what was going on from my reactions – she’s an empath” he explained to Clint, “She was all het up and set to come by, with breakfast as her excuse but when I called to check on her I headed her off at that pass.”

I thought about what she’d see if she had come by unannounced and felt the blood leave my face, she’d have been immersed in all of the horror I’d been fighting, she’d have seen what I could do, she may never look at me again. “I’m so glad you were able to keep her from here this morning. She’s going to want to see us isn’t she? Assess the damage?”

“I'm sure she will. She’s going to have to know more soon Bucky, the world will know more soon.” Sam said.

“I’m sure she’ll be the easier part of all this. If she can stand me afterward, she’d even be as valued in my corner as she is in my heart.”

“You’re stuck with her – she adores you. As much as I can’t see it.” He smirked.

Clint was taking everything in, face full of a breakfast sandwich that I’m certain rivaled even my favorite fare from Ember’s kitchen, I wondered what went through his head, he appears to be a laid back kind of guy – but Steve has shared so much about his skills and his complete focus, I could see that nothing was going over this guy’s head. I wondered what he was taking away from this situation. After one too many times getting caught looking directly at him, I excused myself to go out for some air.

“Buck?”

“I’m fine Steve – roof. Air. I’ll be back.”

“Before sunset, please.” He said, like the smartass he is. He got a finger for a reply. I heard chuckles as I sprinted up the stairs.

“Assholes.” I smirked.

I wasn’t out there five minutes before I heard footsteps on the stairs, not Steve. I turned and Barton was standing in the doorway.

“Come on out, I won’t do anything seamy.”

“I get the feeling we have something to discuss?” he said pleasantly.

“Do _you_? I don’t know what.”

“I don’t per se, but I’m willing to bet there’s some topic you want to go over that’s crowding your head right now. You’ve been watching me, trying to figure me out or something.”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to figure you out. I’m in a shitty, precarious place right now and besides Sam and Steve – you’re the only one who knows anything and you’re one of ‘them’.”

He looked out over the city and laughed, it was a very agreeable laugh, and he wasn’t having any buttons pushed, no matter how disagreeable I was being. “I’m one of whom?”

“An _Avenger_.”

“So’s Cap. You don’t have a problem with that? Or Sam.”

“Steve, he’s my history. He’s my life. Sam’s worth as a person first was proven early on and can’t be questioned. I don’t know you.”

“No.” he turned to face me, “No. You don’t know me. Therefore you can’t judge me.”

I sat on the wall, watching him carefully, reading his features and his open posture as he continued, “I’ve got a pretty good eye – not just where marksmanship is concerned. I can pick a good apple out of a bushel of bad ones. I’ve done it before, with Natasha. I knew Thor was ok before anyone knew who he was. Cap vouches for you, swears by you to probably his dying breath. That ought to be enough for me, and it is. But let me just add, I know what it’s like to have someone else in your head. I may not match your experience in years but I _know_ it. I’ve **been** there. You can’t own that – what you’ve done – you can’t stay sane if that’s how you judge your worth. If I can tell you not to judge yourself by the things you did under someone else’s control, then how the hell can I judge you for it?”

“You seemed like such a quiet guy, you’re a wordy cuss aren’t you?”

We both laughed, “I guess I can be at times. Depends on whether or not it’s worth saying.”

“Steve didn’t send you out to make sure I don’t jump or flee did he? There’s a bit of a mother hen in him this morning.”

“No, you seemed to have things to learn and no idea how to broach it. I thought maybe I’d try to help. Did I clear anything up for you?”

“Yeah. You talk a lot, you’re handy hanging doors and you have shitty taste in cars. I like you.” I looked at him again, remembering another question, “so, just one last question. It’s mostly curiosity.”

“Shoot.”

“You didn’t seem at all fazed by Steve’s and my relationship. There hasn’t been one person give us shit and I know today’s world isn’t **that** open minded, so what’s your take?”

“Cap’s happy. Happier than I’ve seen him the entire time I’ve known him. Same snarky personality but there’s more joy in his rude and sassy comments. You did that. It’s none of my business who sleeps with whom. What _is_ my business? Whether or not his mind’s on his work so we don’t get killed, or when he has hydra invade his home and he needs backup, help and support. That’s my business.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks for your honesty. We should probably get back inside before mother hen lays an egg.” I didn’t really expect a laugh for my stupid comment but Clint laughed.

Each time I start to feel connected to someone new it takes me by surprise. It’s something that shouldn’t feel so… distant… but after so long without a link to **me** let alone anyone else, it’s just sort of foreign so it surprises me how comforting it is. I know that’s not how things used to be, I know I made friends readily, trusted openly. I know this because I’ve heard it and because sometimes I remember an outgoing and open person walking around in my body. It’s ok though, to have a smaller circle. I don’t have to trust everyone. I don’t have to like everyone.

I’m not sure if everyone noticed the look of relief on Steve’s face when we came through the door, but I noticed. That warranted attention, I went to him and kissed him briefly, hugging him to me, “I’m fine Stevie.” I whispered, “Really.”

Clint gathered his things, “Well, I have a delivery to make. This should be interesting.”

“I’ll come along, give you a hand.” Sam added.

I hugged Sam, “Thanks for everything. Thanks for keeping Ember away. We’ll talk in the next few days, all of us.”

“You know I’ll keep her protected – thank you for caring about her. You know I’ll help every way possible. Try not to stress,”

“Yeah, but keep our eyes open.”

Yeah, keep your eyes open.”

“Sam, Clint,” Steve added, “thank you doesn’t seem like enough – but –”

“It’s enough.” Clint answered.

They left and the place was almost the way it should be but the atmosphere was still charged, “Should we get out of here for a while?” Steve asked.

“Yes!” I breathed, “I was about to make the same suggestion.”


	20. I Said 'I Love You'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short 'chapter' following their home invasion and what it did to Bucky

I lunged and pounced on the target, thighs and knees braced on either side of his rib cage like a vice, pinning his arms beneath my legs. I wasn’t armed with any weapon, I was the weapon. I grasped his throat with my left hand, feeling nothing but sensors registering the give of skin and muscle as I tightened my grip. Sounds of air leaking from his lips were strained and a fine spray of saliva landed on my right hand that pressed into his chest. He was strong, struggling against my attempts by bucking, and attempting to distract me with words. Words that he couldn’t force past his lips came out in guttural sounds with no meaning. His arms were still trapped but he was only moments from freeing them. Suddenly my own throat was assaulted as he’d managed kicked his legs free from the bedding and caught me in a scissor hold, “BUCKY!” the words finally ground out, “Wake UP Buck!” he rasped. My breathing hitched, “Buck. It’s. Me. It’s. Steve! Wake UP.” His fight didn’t let up even as he ground out the words. My chest heaved with sharp breaths as I worked to figure out what was happening. I had a mission. It was a dream.

The realization had me collapsing under his weight as my grasp on his throat released and I broke down and wept. I could have killed him in my fucking sleep. I bawled for what felt like hours, maybe days. It wasn’t that long at all before he recognized there was no fight left and he crawled over me, laying his body on top of mine. “It’s ok Buck, shh. It’s ok.” He soothed. It wasn’t ok. “It was just a dream. It’s ok.” He continued to smooth my hair, touch my face, wipe my tears but I sobbed. Finally he put his head down on my left shoulder, his cheek soft on my neck, his hair tickling my cheek. “Bucky, sweetheart, it’s ok. His hands kneaded my right shoulder and sought my left hand, running long, calloused artists fingers over each finger and caressing the plates-tracing the joints between the plates. “It was just a dream sweet boy.” He crooned riding out my heaving sobs.

Since that night I’d stopped sleeping, yet every night leading up to the meeting with Sam’s lawyer friend was fraught with nightmares. I watched over him as he slept, saw him wrestling with the demons in his dreams, fighting hydra. Fighting me.

That nightmare continued to terrorize me. I’d been there before, in the place of those agents, with a glaring exception, I didn’t fail. I never failed. So instead of sleeping, I sat vigil, keeping Steve safe, watching him breathe. He’d wake occasionally, asking, begging me to sleep, and reassuring me that it had just been a nightmare, “A bad dream”. Still I sat watch, keeping things from coming in, keeping _him_ from coming out.

Things had hit too close to home and we were not dealing with it as well as we’d hoped. Ha. I almost wrote ‘as well as we should’… but how the fuck are you to be expected to deal with being attacked in your own home. Yeah we’d both assumed it was behind us after all of the evidence was gone. That was a mistake.

Late last night, Steve had been peacefully sleeping; there was no evidence of anything but quality REM sleep. I watched as the peaceful slumber softened his features, his usually furrowed brow smoothed, his hair dusting his forehead softly and his breathing was deep and steady. He looked young and small again. I smiled and brushed the fringe across his brow with my thumb before kissing his temple. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I should leave, that would keep you safe.” I disregarded the tear that dropped from my face to his collarbone, “I love you Steve.” I said again as I crept from the bed to keep from waking him.

I crossed the room and dressed quietly, grabbing the go bag I’d stashed under the bed, I slunk out of the room, closing my eyes to the tears that were trying to blind me and keep me from moving. I could do this with my eyes closed – and now I had to. I was out the door and down the stairs before I let my anguish stop me briefly. I listened for his footsteps, wanting to escape before he woke but somehow hoping he’d be behind me. I shook that thought, I didn’t want to do battle with him over this, not verbal any more than I ever wanted to lay a hand on him again in violence.

Taking a bracing breath, no footsteps followed. I was on my own; I stepped out into the night. The streetlamps caught me off guard, the ever vigilant yellow light betraying my secret, and I’d forgotten about them. I stepped closer to the building to avoid being illuminated and started up the street. The pack was heavy on my back as my head was heavy on my shoulders. I wanted nothing more than to turn around, he was alone, who would keep him safe? Oh, that’s right with me gone that was not a concern.

I made the extra effort to put each foot forward in the right order, making progress, one building away from home, two buildings away from Steve, three buildings away and I’d never see Ember again, nor Sam. I rounded the corner and leaned against the cold brick of the building. I pushed those thoughts away. Not Steve, Not Ember, Not Sam. None of them would suffer by my hand. They’d be better off never seeing me again; I couldn’t be selfish and keep them to myself only to kill them in a moment of lost control. I felt the cold brick through my thin jacket, it was icy and hard and I hated it. I sank further into it, sinking slowly to the ground feeling the chill to my bones. My eyes closed against my will and the ugly memories swarmed behind them. Cryo, killing, the horrors I’d done, the horrors done to me and Steve’s angry voice.

“You were really going to fucking leave me without a ‘goodbye’?” he startled me from the tortured sleep.

My heart hurt, it soared, “I said 'I love you'.” I croaked through the choking feeling in the back of my throat. “I said 'I love you'.” I repeated more firmly and it sounded more like me.

“Do you?” I looked up, his hands were on his hips, and he was standing above me in pajama pants and his tee shirt, illuminated from behind like some kind of deity. “Do you love me?”

“You know that I do.”

He crouched in front of me and took my face in his hand “Do I know that? You left me without a word – don’t say it – you **left me**.” His peaceful face that I’d planned to carry with me until my dying days was replaced by a scowl and the hurt in his eyes. I tried to look away and he held my chin with his strong grip.

“I almost killed you! I haven’t slept because I will kill you if I do.” It sounded nuts when I said it aloud but I still felt it, the fear and the sheer terror.

“Bucky. You wouldn’t.”

“Steve – you were there, you know it almost happened. It could have happened so much quicker than it played out.”

“But you couldn’t do it. You sleep with a knife under your goddamned pillow Buck. You think I don’t know but I do. You could have gutted me if you were intent on killing me. It was a nightmare!” His hands were now on my shoulders, firm and warm. “Come back home. I’ll keep watch while you sleep. I’ll keep us both safe. I can call Sam in as backup if you think it would make you more comfortable.”

“Steve.” I tried to protest but even I knew it wasn’t in me. My leaving had been doomed as soon as I’d stopped walking. Thoughts of how I would end up killing the people I love and the momentum of my footsteps were the only things that had propelled me forward.

“No.” he said sharply, cutting out any opportunity I might have had to argue with his flat refusal. “You’re coming **home** Bucky. I promised not to make decisions for you but right now I’m putting my foot down. I won’t let you sit out here in the freezing cold and sleep. We have a perfectly good bed. If you don’t want to share our bed any longer, your room is still waiting for you. Those are currently your only options.”

He rose and put his hand out, a gesture that said I still had a choice in the matter. I looked up at him, from his bare feet in the frost on the concrete to his sleep tousled hair lit by yellow lamplight. I reached for him, knowing it would be the only option I would ever take.

“But I hope you’ll still choose our bed.” He said as he put an arm around me, pulling me close.

 


	21. Making Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's 3 biggest choices for moving forward

Steve practically dragged me back to the apartment and I let him. I leaned on him and he just kept moving with purpose.

I was aware of his arms holding me up, and that I was essentially sagging against him. That and pain were all I was really aware of. The street lights burned my eyes. My chest felt heavy and I felt like at any moment I would vomit.

“Buck, you need to breathe.” Steve said softly. “You deserve a good cry over everything, god knows I’m about to fall apart but you need to breathe.”

It wasn’t until that moment that I recognized that I was crying, heavy sobs. I couldn’t stop and every exercise I’d ever known to help Steve breathe through an asthma attack was lost on me. At the doorway to our building he finally stopped, as though he wouldn’t stop (unless I was dying) before we got to _our place_.

Steve pushed me against the wall and held me standing by my pinning my shoulders beneath the heels of his palms. “Breathe.”  He ordered. “inhale Buck.”

I followed his order.

“Good. Exhale.”

I did that too.

“Again, inhale.”

I complied. My head felt dizzy but the knot in my gut fell free.

“Good, Exhale.” He moved one hand and placed it tenderly on my jaw, looking into my eyes “You ok to stand?”

I nodded weakly, “’m good.”

“Keep breathing. I’d rather not carry you up the stairs, can you make it?”

“It’s safer out here.” My breath hitched as the thoughts of the fear that had caused me to run crept back in to my mind.

“No. It’s not. Breathe dammit. It’s _colder_ out here. I’m calling Sam. You’ll be safe. I’ll be safe.”

“Sam? He’s great but what can he do?”

“Shoot you.” Steve smirked. Part of me wanted to smile too but I couldn’t summon the strength or the will. “I’m kidding Buck.”

“No, you’re not. You know he’d do it to save you.” At his frown I added, “Nothing personal of course. I’d shoot at anyone or anything that was trying to hurt you.”

“You’re delirious. It’s time for bed.” He tugged my hand and pulled me along behind him.

“You’re sure bossy.” I groaned as we made our way up the stairs.

“Fine, I’m bossy, you’ll live to tell about it another day.” He turned to me with a small smile and I was reminded of a night so long ago.

> “Buck I’m fine. I’ve saved for this, it’s your birthday. Y’know we both want to see this flick. I’m fine! It was just a dizzy spell. ” I was turning 16 and Steve had saved and saved. I didn’t want to say ‘no’ but what else could I do?
> 
> “No. No Steve. It wasn’t just a dizzy spell. You were white as a sheet and practically coughed up what lungs you got. We’re staying in tonight. We’ll go see the big ape later, you wait and see. Save your money. But right now We. Are. Going. Home.”
> 
> “Chrissake buck, you’re not my ma. Stop being so bossy.” Steve grabbed my sleeve, supposedly to make a point. It ended up being more to steady himself on his own two feet which told me he was all bark.
> 
> “Maybe I oughtta **tell** your ma. Maybe she can talk some sense into ya. D’ya really think I would be happy if we went to see King Kong tonight and you died on my birthday? You go home without griping about it and I won’t mention the dizzy spell or seeing exactly all of the blue veins in your body to your ma.”
> 
> “You’re so damned bossy.” But I could tell he was winded just fighting me.
> 
> “Fine. I’m bossy, you’ll live to tell about it another day.”

I don’t remember getting into either pajama pants or the bed, the last thing I remember after we entered our apartment was him stopping just inside the front door and asking “which room?”

I led with my body in the direction of our room “thought you’d know the answer to that.” I remember muttering.

The next thing I knew I was hearing muffled voices. I froze. Fear rushed through me and I had to force myself to move. I managed to shift to the edge of the bed, still unable to identify the voices over the pounding in my head. I strained to hear Steve’s voice and hoped for Sam’s as well. What I finally deciphered was laughter.

I sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute as I remembered that I had actually gotten up earlier, waking to Steve wrapped around me, his hot body radiating over me. I’d gotten up, gone out to go to the bathroom and had talked to Sam and Ember. How I forgot that confused me at first but I chalked it up to exhaustion. It happens, short term memory loss triggered by lack of sleep. More gifts from hydra. Fuckers.

This time I was definitely alone and that was definitely Steve’s giggle. On a good day I manage to get the guy to crack a smile and here he is giggling. This I had to see. I dragged myself out of bed, pausing at the door just to make sure it was them and not a trick. I looked out to see Stevie standing in the living room, laughing, facing Sam and Ember who were sitting on the sofa laughing at or with him.

They looked perfect, the three of them. I thought again about leaving – Steve would be fine. The thought broke my heart.  Sam looked at me first and Ember’s assessing gaze settled on me, something inside me shifted and the idea of leaving left a bad taste in my mouth, bitter and vile.  I put the painful thought out of my head and ventured into the room.

I was pulled into the vignette by words and glances and best of all by Steve gravitating toward me and engulfing me in his arms from behind. The idea that I could leave all this vanished like smoke. I’ve never felt so vulnerable as I have this past week and instead of reaching out to the people who could help me the most, I nearly lost them all.

In the days since, I’ve taken a few steps to correct that. First thing I did after getting some more sleep was to call Sam.

> “Hey Sam!”
> 
> “Bucky – how you doin’?” I could hear concern under his friendly tone.
> 
> “Better than you last saw me. I have a question.”
> 
> “Shoot.”
> 
> It took a few seconds for me to continue and the patience on the other end was welcome. “So, if I wanted to see a therapist…”
> 
> “I could hook you up.” He didn’t even bother to mask the glee in his voice. Shithead.
> 
> “I know that Sam. I need to know – how will this work? I’m still working and that shithead won’t take any money for rent so I think I can manage that, but this guy – or girl – will I be safe? You’ll only hook me up with someone who won’t fuck with me right? I’ve had too many people in my head – I need to know I’ll be coming out of this – well – as _me_.”
> 
> “Bucky, you trusted me with your life when you hardly knew me, don’t tell me you don’t trust me now.” I could hear the sincerity and maybe an undercurrent of hurt.
> 
> “I do Sam. Which is why I’m **calling** you. I’m terrified of this step and I – Sam – I just need to hear it.”
> 
> “Bucky, you have my word – I’ve already been looking forward to this and I know exactly who to recommend. I trust him, he’s not going to do anything but help. He’ll listen and he’ll give you things to think on and every single thing you tell him will be between only you and him. And most importantly he’s not hydra.”
> 
> “Ok, so how do you know? And if that’s the case, what do I do?”
> 
> “I just know. Ok. Trust me just a little bit? I’m going to be seeing him in about an hour. I’ll give him the rundown and your number. He’ll call you, and you make your first appointment and go from there.” He made it sound so simple.
> 
> Was it that simple?
> 
> “So, Bucky, not that you need to, but did you tell Steve?”
> 
> “I haven’t yet. I was going to after talking to you. Maybe over lunch.”
> 
> “This is a good move. It will look good when we get around to scheduling that meeting. Do you think you’ll try to make your first appointment before meeting with Shayla?”
> 
> “I think I want to make it for pretty soon, yeah. I can’t do it alone any more Sam. I still feel like I want to run. I can’t really talk to him about it. He’ll just get that hurt look and tell me why I can’t run. I need to deal with the whole thing and I don’t think anyone close to me is the best answer any more. No offense Sam.”
> 
> “Hey, you won’t hear me complaining – I’ve been waiting for this and I was about to mention it again but last time you were pretty adamant.”
> 
> “Things change.” I thought just how much things had changed, especially for me in the past couple of months. “Things definitely change.”
> 
> “I heard that.” He chuckled. “So call me if you need anything – I’m pretty sure you’ll be getting a call this afternoon at the latest.”
> 
> “Thanks for everything Sam.”

The second thing I did was to go directly from where I was done repairing a computer in the living room (I’d graduated slowly from closing myself off in the bedroom) to the kitchen where Steve was either working on preparing for the meeting with Shayla or he was online shopping. I didn’t know for sure but with the intense focus that allowed me to sneak up behind him without actually sneaking. To startle him when I kissed the top of his head, he was surely working.

“Hey Buck.” He smiled, his voice soft.

“Hey, you.” I put my arms around him. “You ready to take a break? I wanna go down the road to the deli – come along? I’ll buy lunch.”

He put his hands on my arms and leaned into me. I kissed his head again with a smile. “Sure. I think I could break. You ok?”

“Stir crazy.”

His grip on my arms tightened slightly, tenderly, “not thinking about running again?”

“If I said ‘never’ would you believe me?”

“Not a word.”

“Yeah, thinking about it but not doing it. I’m done running.” I pulled away from him and held a hand out to lead him away, “Deli. Now. Hungry.”

“Sometimes, dealing with you is like herding cats.” He muttered.

“Try being me.” I pushed on his shoulder as we bristled past the counter – both trying to push through the narrow walkway at the same time.

“No thanks. You’re a rude bastard.”

“Yeah? Too bad you like it when I’m rude.”

* * *

The deli welcomed us in from the cold with the pungent aromas. I sighed with the nostalgia of it all, while we waited for our order.

“Some things are timeless, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Smell that.” I inhaled dramatically.

“Yeah, Timeless” he smiled, “we’re actually inside and looking forward to eating it instead of passing by on our way home to eat something less appealing.”

“Like I told Sam a little bit ago, ‘things change’.”

“You talked to Sam? Is everything ok?”

“Steve.” I rolled my eyes just as young girl brought our sandwiches and my phone rang at the same time. “Hang on…”

> “hello.”
> 
> “Mr. Barnes?”
> 
> “James, please.”
> 
> “James. This is Dr. Petrakis. Our mutual friend Sam Wilson gave me your information. He’s here with me if you’d like to verify that I’m who I say I am.”
> 
> “Thank you Dr. That’s very considerate of you.” I was actually touched by the consideration, whether it was his or Sam’s it really struck me.
> 
> “Sam tells me you’re interested in talking with a therapist. Is this a crisis moment or is it something we can make an appointment for.
> 
> “An appointment would be appreciated. I’m not having a crisis just now.” I noticed the very, very lost look on Steve’s face. He was mouthing questions that I just waved off.
> 
> “I have time either this afternoon or tomorrow – after that I’d have to fit you in next week sometime.”
> 
> “Wow, that’s fast.” It was. Whirlwind fast and my breath rushed out of my lungs before I reminded myself that I wanted to do this soon.
> 
> “No pressure. I was just looking at my calendar. Next week then? To give you some time to adjust?”
> 
> “Actually, this afternoon would be ok.” There you go Barnes. Just jump in with both feet.
> 
> “Ok, how does 3:30 sound?”
> 
> “Ominous.” I wasn’t supposed to say that aloud. “Sorry, it sounds fine.”
> 
> He actually chuckled, were they supposed to do that? “Ok, James I’ll send you my office address and I’ll see you at 3:30.”
> 
> “Thanks doc. See you at 3:30.”

I hung up the phone not breaking eye-contact with Steve, “I’m going to start seeing a therapist. I can’t manage this alone any more. Self-help books and journaling were always just part of the plan.”

“Bucky.” He looked – proud – and incredulous.

“Yeah, I know – don’t talk about your problems, keep it bottled up. Talk to your friends only if you have to. Don’t mention feelings. Those are antiquated ideals and I really think I need this.” I took a bite of my sandwich, savoring the warm spicy salami on fresh baked bread.

“Bucky, I’m proud of you. Don’t you know this is a great thing?”

“Really? I worried that you’d have an issue.” I tipped my sandwich up in the typical ‘eat’ salute and he took a bite of his own in response.

“Why would you think that?” he asked around a mouthful, genuinely curious. “I’ve considered it myself, recently.”

“You? I never thought –” I tried not to be distracted by his pink tongue tipping his lips to capture a bit of juice that had dripped from his sandwich.

“What? I’m working my way up to the idea. It’s hard for me to ask for help.” He sipped from his straw and I couldn’t look away. “Thought you knew that about me.”

“Well, it terrifies the **shit** out of _me_ , having someone messing with my head _again_. But what scares me more? Being in this place in my own mind, where I don’t know if I stay or leave, where I want to jack out of here and never look back; but I can’t not look back and then I’m thinking of everything I’ll miss. I hope you know – when you asked me earlier if I was thinking of running, it hurt – but it also felt ok because you accepted some very basic flaw in me.”

“It’s not a flaw.” He set his sandwich down, placing his hands on the table, “I’m surprised you’ve held up as well as you have between the stress of the meetings coming up and the attack. I’m even more surprised that I caught up with you _and_ I’m surprised you came home. Above all, though I’m proud of you for all of it and especially for your healthy approach. I’m proud. Of you.”

I sat with that compliment for a bit. The next time I spoke was when the server came around to ask if we needed anything else, “I wonder if you know of a good barber around here? Sorry, I know it’s not a typical question, I’m just, well, everything’s changed since I was here last.” Steve’s smile practically melted the ice in my drink.

“Oh yeah, there’s one just three blocks up and to the left. Great old place my granddad always goes to.”

“Walk-ins?”

“Sure – if you don’t mind a bunch of old guys hanging around talking around you. I think the salon the other direction would do your mane a real service though, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Tell you what, if the barber experience doesn’t meet expectations, I’ll check back with you for details.” I gave her a smile to let her know I was **not** belittling her opinion.

That was the third thing, I was getting a haircut. I’d been on and off the fence about it and finally, with all the things going on, I decided to embrace it. I’d probably make a better impression when it counted anyway.

“So, You ok with all the changes Steve?”

“Am I ok? Are you making your own choices? Is anyone running your fucking life? I’m more than ok with this. And I can sit here and say “it’s so sudden” but I know you, you’ve been running things over and over for a while. It’s not sudden for you.”

“Maybe a bit sooner than I wanted. But it’s all coming together **now** so I might as well get on top of it.” I warmed at his smile, “you ok with me chopping all this off?” I ran my fingers through the stray mop that hadn’t been my choice initially but had become a good curtain to hide behind.

“I’ll kind of miss it. But it’ll be nice to see your eyes.” That soft look he gets, the one that melts me every time, was back.

“You up for a walk after this then? We can go jaw with a bunch of people we’re probably still older than.”

“You sayin’ I need a trim?”

“Maybe a little off the top, or just sit around and enjoy a few hours out of the apartment.”

We took our time finishing our lunch and the next thing I knew, I was walking into a barber shop. It was almost familiar, the place took the timeless nature of a barber shop, the smells were familiar and I got excited for a change. We sat for just a few minutes before I was ushered to a chair and…

I was immobilized.

I couldn’t breathe. Everything went white and then black. “Steve” I croaked.

His hands were on my shoulders, “Buck?”

“I can’t.” my hand was shaking and my vision was still fucked.

“Breathe. I’m here. Tell me what it is Buck.” He knew; I know he’s seen the chair in his files and his added research.

“The chair. I can’t Steve.”

“We can do this together. I’ll be right at your side. I won’t move, I’ll sit right by you.” I kind of heard him shoot a quiet “sorry” to the barber and ask for a minute. “We can go home if you’d like. I can cut your hair. It’s been awhile but I could do it.”

As he spoke I started to find my center. I touched his hand and he grasped mine. “No. I need to do this. Little kids can manage this, Steve.”

“You’re right, Buck. Little kids. Remember when we were kids and we’d go to the barber for a haircut? Remember when we would make faces at each other in the mirror? That’s what I want you to think about. You can do this. I know you can. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know.”

“If you want to try another time –”

“No. I can do this.”

“One step at a time. You’re not alone.” We were still standing in the middle of the place, about 3 good steps from the chair. “It’s a barber’s chair. He won’t hurt you.”

I had no concept of whether we were being watched or not and he made no indications one way or another. I could finally focus on his face. His eyes were bright, his brow was furrowed but there was a small smile on his lips. “Just a barber’s chair.” I exhaled heavily.

“Yup. One battle at a time Buck. Try to have a seat and if that’s too much we can come back another time.”

I took the steps to the chair very slowly, holding his arm tightly. I sat on the edge of the seat and focused on my breathing.

“How you doin?” he was crouched by the chair, hand on my thigh looking up at me with that worried half-smile.

“So far so good.” I answered.

“Can you scoot back?” he rose, brushing my cheek then settling his hand on my shoulder. With a lot of effort, I was eventually able to sit back into the seat. He turned away from me and then back, I guess he conferred with the barber before he continued. “Ok, so the chair, you remember how it will go up and down and swivel? I’m going to make it go up when you tell me to. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Steve, I don’t know –”

“It’s ok. You want a magazine for a few? We can do this, take your time.”

I was fully aware of my surroundings now. “Ok. Let’s just do this.” I didn’t feel as self-assured as I’d hoped I sounded and I’m sure my grabbing his hand didn’t project any kind of confidence.

“Ok, just going up a little. Look at me in the mirror.” I locked eyes with him in the mirror and he tightened his fingers around mine before pressing the foot pedal. The first movement got to me and I jumped then tightened my grip on his hand. He waited and watched me in the mirror before asking “You ok for another lift?”

I nodded almost imperceptibly and he lifted the chair again.

“I’m going to let the chair back down and then I’m turning you over to the barber. I’ll be right at your knee. Is that ok?”

I watched my reflection as he spoke, fear and pride warred in my features, pride and love graced his face. “Yeah, just promise me you won’t move away.”

“I will not leave your sight. I might have to move for the barber. I won’t leave the space.” He grinned with a sly wink and then stuck his tongue out in the mirror which put just a little smirk on my face.

The experience started to feel more real than surreal. The barber stepped up to the chair as Steve pulled a chair away from the window and set it off to my side. He straddled the back of the chair and put his hand on my left knee. I put my hand on his and gave it a squeeze.

The barber was stoic, he stood aside until I looked at him, catching his eye in the mirror. He knew. He’d been somewhere dark once. Had seen some previous horror and he waited me out. “Shave and haircut please, sir.” I heard my voice crack.

“Straight razor ok?” he asked. No pity. No fear. Just a business question.

“Only if you know how to handle it.” I replied, shocked to hear humor in my tone.

The corner of his mouth lifted, a smirk to match my own. “Will clippers be a problem when it comes time for them?”

“You’re the pro.” I smiled. “Your pistol?” I nodded toward the weapon next to the clippers he’d mentioned. He started talking about the piece, keeping it in the shop ‘just in case’, ‘never needed to use it yet’ as he settled the seat back and pulled out hot towels. Steve’s hand on my knee kept me present as things changed around me.

The first hot towel around my face was a shock, but a normal one. As I acclimated to the temperature I settled in to the soothing feeling of the towel wrapped around my face, remembering how it felt from another time. I settled my hands on the arm rests, fingers dipping into the recess where an ash-tray used to live. I could use a smoke. I set the thought aside. Just when I couldn’t feel the temperature of the towel any more the barber removed the towel exposing my skin to cool air, then applied a sweet smelling cream to my face and placed more hot towels over the slick surface of my skin. I nearly fell asleep to the soothing aroma and the warmth.

When the towels came off, the cool air was again a shock. Steve tightened his grip on my knee at my movement, a silent encouragement. The barber slathered my face with a heated lather. One of the men broke the silence to say something to “Captain America” and I had to resist smiling as the barber’s straight edge came to my cheek. The scrape against the whiskers made a scritch-scratch sound and I settled back to listen to the war story being told and responded to from the increasingly familiar surroundings of the barber’s chair.

Another towel followed the shave and the barber asked Steve if he was getting anything done. I touched his hand to let him know I was doing all right and he was seated in the chair next to mine.

“On your left, Buck.” He said, his smile radiating in his voice. I was nearly asleep again under the hot towel by the time the barber had finished getting Steve set up with his towels. He made conversation, talking about his service as door gunner in Viet Nam, coming home and being disregarded. Making sure his son didn’t feel the same when he came home from the desert. He touched my shoulder before he removed the towel and righted the seat-back.

“You gonna get rid of all this hair huh? It’s mighty long. Were you wanting to donate it?” When I just looked at him in the mirror he explained the various charities that do hair prosthetics for children and how he’s had numerous clients “hack off as much as you’ve been sportin’ to donate”.

I shrugged – might as well, I guess – and he tied my hair together and hacked it off. It was a little more emotional than I’d expected it to be when he handed me the tied bundle of hair. I ran it through my fingers as he set to cutting my hair, stopping to change towels and prep Steve for a shave.

The conversation was varied, sometimes lewd and mostly entertaining. When the barber finished up with both of us and we settled up with him, one of the men who had been quiet most of the time looked at me, his eyes misting. “You’re Bucky Barnes.” He said softly, his aged face taking on the appearance of youth.

“Shh..” I smiled. “Nobody knows I’m here.”

“I heard stories about you. You’ve been my hero. The howling commandos saved my father. You saved my father.” He held his hand out.

“I’m sure your compliments are for the Captain, here.” I smiled, shaking his offered hand, the skin there soft and wrinkled. His weathered features didn’t falter.

“Oh No. I know you worked closely with the Captain but my pop said it was you that pulled him out of the clutches of those bastards. You wouldn’t remember, he was just one of many, but he remembered you.”

“I’m happy to have met you, sir. Your father must have been quite a man to deal with “those bastards” and make it out. I’m glad I had something to do with returning him to you. Did he suffer when he came home?”

“Oh, sometimes the dreams would rattle him. He never said, but I would hear him late in the night. You too, sir?”

“You saw me earlier. Yeah, a fair bit of suffering. I’m working on it. Thank you for talking with me.”

“It’s been my honor, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Please. James. Or Bucky. Sgt. Barnes is a myth.” I winked and grinned. “And the honor is mine Mr.?”

“James. He named me after you, sir.” I swallowed a lump, I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Pleased to meet you, James.” Steve stepped up, he’d probably been watching like a hawk. “I’m sure Bucky’s –”

“Bucky’s ok.” I put my hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “James, it has been a pleasure. I’m honored to know you. I hope the name has served you well.”

We left a very happy “young” and astonished James in the barber shop and stepped out into the cold.

“Are you ok?” Steve asked as we stepped up to the intersection.

“How many times have you said that to me today?” I sighed, “I’m not ok and I hate that you know it.”

He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t. I’m glad I can at least kind of read you. I’m glad I can be there. I’m still very proud of you. You made some amazing things happen today. You let some good things unfold around you too.”

“Just wait until you need to peel me off the shrink’s couch. We’ll see how proud you are then.”

He bumped against me just before we started across the street. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Barnes.”

“You have no idea what’s funny, Captain.” To either prove my point or make a fool of me he laughed a full belly laugh that stopped him in the road. I had to drag him by the arm out of the intersection. “I don’t have time for your nonsense. I have an appointment to get to.”

“You love it.”

“I love **you**.” I smiled. “So, you coming along to peel me from said couch?”

“I’d like to be there for you when you’re finished.”

We headed back to the apartment to get warmer clothes before riding out on his bike. As we neared the brownstone where the doctor had his office, my nerves started in on me. When we pulled up to the curb, I was ready to do anything **but** dismount the motorcycle, let alone walk up the steps and into the building.

“You know Sam vetted this doctor personally.” Steve said softly, unlinking my fingers from around his waist. I hadn’t been aware I’d gripped so firmly, or that I hadn’t let go yet.

“I know. I’ve had a lot going on today. I didn’t wake up with this idea and I didn’t count on the barber chair problem.”

“All things you can talk to the doctor about. I’ll be right outside the door or down the street if you’d prefer.”

“Oh no! You’re going to stay within yelling distance.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m here. I thought I could get through it all on my own.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. It was a pretty sharp idea though.” I smiled.

“No, it was a desperate idea and it worked while it lasted. Tell me how you feel about your doctor when you’re done today, maybe I’ll make my own appointment.”

I dismounted the bike and put my hands on his shoulders, “I love you. You were really amazing today at the barber, thank you.”

He ruffled his fingers through my hair, “It’s really gone.” He smiled, “you look incredible, Buck. Like I said earlier, I’ll kinda miss it but I really like this new take on an old classic.”

I kissed him, taking his lower lip between my teeth and nibbled lightly, “Do you always know what to say?”

“Mmm. No, I say what’s in my heart and I am always just hoping I’ll say the right thing.” He kissed me back, tongues tangling, “How does it feel?”

“Oddly normal.” I smiled into his neck, holding onto his waist. “Can you believe that?”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a week. Hmm, do you suppose we should go in now? I don’t want to be the reason you’re late.”

“Is that your way of telling me to quit stalling?” I held my hand out to him watching as he threw his leg over bike and stood gracefully in front of me. He took my offered hand and gave a squeeze.

* * *

 The therapist, Dr. Petrakis, is a very friendly guy. He greeted us within minutes of our coming in, the receptionist had only just said hello when he came out of his office. “James, Captain, welcome. Won’t you come in?” He offered us each a hand which we shook in turn. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“Steve, please.” Steve corrected. “Captain is too ostentatious for these surroundings.”

“Yeah, whatever, Captain.” I teased without thinking as we followed the doctor into the modest office.

The doctor chuckled and amended his greeting, “Steve. Pleased to meet you. Please, have a seat.”

We each took a seat in a comfortable chair next to one another, facing his identical chair. The office had a homey, welcoming feeling that I approved of. I had expected something cold and clinical for some reason, possibly any reference to anything attached to someone with the title Dr.

“James, I have the information that Sam gave me, I’m sure you know it’s pretty basic from just a partial afternoon. I’d like to take today to just get to know you and if you feel comfortable, I’d like Steve to join us this time around. I hope you’ll call me George, the title must be so off-putting for you.”

I looked from him to Steve, “You’ll stay?” He nodded. “Thanks doc- George. Yeah, I’d like that. It feels kind of strange to sit here and know you and Sam talked about me. I knew he was, I okayed it, but it’s still weird for me.”

“Well, that’s the only time that will happen. Sam and I won’t be discussing you in the future. Everything that you say and do in this office will be between me and you. And anyone you alone choose to share it with. It is both illegal in immoral for me to take any information outside these walls. I assure you, I value my relationship with my patients far too much to behave in either an illegal or immoral fashion.”

“Sam endorsed you, that’s good enough for me, the recommendation couldn’t come any higher unless it came from this man right here.”

“So, how was your afternoon leading up to this step, sometimes the anticipation is enough to make someone cut and run.”

“I thought I was ok. I had some real hesitation but today has been all about pushing past things. I had a pretty bad moment getting into a barber’s chair.”

He didn’t seem to know that part of my history. Oh Sammy. “Sam did mention the whole held against my will and mindfucked thing right?” Steve put his hand over mine, which I hadn’t noticed had been clenched in a white knuckled fist. I relaxed my hand “They used a chair with a lot of technology attached to ‘wipe’ my mind. The chair was a torture device and I didn’t even think of it when I decided to get my hair cut today. Not until I faced it. Different but still way too similar.”

“How did you do?” he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He was dressed casually, and it felt like we were sitting in his living room, chatting. He looked friendly and approachable in his blue-jeans and plaid button up.

“Not that well. Not without Steve.”

“James, we don’t get by in life on our own, you’re not alone, of course you’ll have times you’ll have to do things solo. This time, you had help. How did you do?”

“I managed.” I noticed that I was staring at my hand on my knee and dragged my attention to George’s face, “I managed with Steve’s help, to sit in the chair without hyperventilating or running. Or getting violent.” I breathed with a hitch.

“Your last word, is that your first fear?” he laced his fingers together, still in the same posture from before.

“Yes. I am afraid if I don’t run I’ll get violent. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“Steve, is James violent?”

Steve tightened his hand over mine in a protective manner, “No. He’s not violent.”

“I tried to kill you just a week ago.”

“You were dreaming. You were sleep deprived and you had a nightmare. That doesn’t count.”

“Steve, it counts to James.” We both looked at George, he paused, offering a reassuring smile. “That doesn’t mean it makes you violent, James. You’re aware of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? It manifests in many ways. I want you – instead of focusing on the one violent outburst – to focus on the other ways you have faced non-violent challenges. Even if they feel like negative reactions, label it as non-violent, which is always a win.

“Was the barber shop experience improved once you faced the chair and were able to sit in it?”

“Yes, it turned pleasant rather quickly. I was able to actually relax and enjoy the familiar routine and Steve didn’t even have to miss out on his own shave and trim. He would have sat at my side the whole time if I didn’t reassure him.”

“Ok. Do you see what I mean? Not only do you get to label this non-violent, you also get to take away from it a pleasant experience. Not just _tolerable_ , ‘pleasant’ by your own description. Does this mean you have to go to the barber alone next time? No. If you need someone there with you so you can approach the chair one, two or even ten more times, you already know you can eventually do it.

“Even if you do think you can go to the barber alone, allow yourself an out. Say you decide in a couple of weeks or so to go to the barber and you’re stubborn enough to think “I’ve got this” go for it. Maybe you could ask Steve or Sam come along, tell them to stay outside, either in your line of sight through the window or not, your choice. Once you’re inside by yourself you can choose to call them in or let them wait it out outside.”

I watched him as he spoke; he seemed so self-assured, so put together. His solutions ran off the tip of his tongue, he chose his words carefully but it didn’t feel crafted and I liked what he said. I tried counting all of the times he mentioned choice, my choice. Every sentence had me making choices.

“How does this idea strike you?”

“I like it. I think it’s manageable.”

“Do you think the broader practice will be manageable? Can you turn your everyday challenges into positive statements? Even if the most positive thing you can pull out of it is that it didn’t get violent?”

I huffed a small laugh, “yes. I have to say it doesn’t sound too encouraging.”

“But it will be when you look at it differently. When things don’t escalate to your biggest fear, it is positive. How many challenges do you have that this will be the only thing you can take away from them? You’re putting a lot of emphasis on the one violent event and it is a big deal, any time violence is the outcome it’s a big deal but remember, it was _one_ time. In putting so much emphasis on the most negative experience you’ve had in a number of months, do you think you might be getting in your own way? This is something we’ll work on. I would like to see you weekly. Next week just you and me, less me talking, more me listening.”

“Ok. I can do that.”

“Steve, can I give you a suggestion? An assignment really.”

“Sure.”

“I know your desire is to support James. To be his best support system, you have to acknowledge _how_ the things that happen make James _feel_. When you say something that affects him ‘doesn’t count’, it doesn’t translate the way you’d intended. I can see that you’re a calming influence, so if you can just adjust your phrasing things will only get better. Keep up the support, but be mindful of your words”

“Doc, he’s always –”

“Buck, he’s right. I want to do this right and he’s telling it how it is. I love you, but in here – in this office – you don’t have to defend me. You don’t need your defenses in this office and you are allowed to tell it like it is, especially about us, about me. And I’m not “always”.”

“Fine, you’re not. You’re a pain in the ass. _Always_ have been.”

“It’s probably a good thing we’re going forward one on one,” George laughed, “You two together in a room is a lot to process. I don’t envy Sam.”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell him that.” I winked.

“I’d send you out to set up an appointment with my receptionist but I’d rather spare her your wit and charm for at least another week, so how does one week from now, same time, sound?”

“It sounds good.” I said, honestly. He put the info in his phone and I moved to do the same. “So does that mean you want me to pay you directly?”

“Starting with next week you can settle up and make appointments with Charlotte. No fee for today’s consultation.”

“Thank you.” I shook his hand, feeling good about the chance I’d taken, “This is a good move, I know it is.”

“You’ll see that you’re right. Sometimes you might doubt it too. I hope not too often.” He smiled, his brown eyes twinkling with the light that streamed through the windows, I pegged him at about 35 years old. Older-yet-younger than me. He has a nice smile that creates dimples in his cheeks and his eyes crinkle slightly. His thick mop of dark hair is longer than mine is now and curly, but well-kept and to be honest, he is quite attractive.

When we were standing by the bike Steve teased me, “you going to be throwing me over for the doctor, Barnes?”

“I might be in the mood for Greek.” I teased back. “You seemed to appreciate his assets, baby-doll. You have designs on my doc?”

He tossed his head back with laughter, “Not on your life, you’re more than enough of a handful for me.” He winked with a wicked look.

“You let me drive; I’ll let you have a handful.” I expected him to laugh it off so I almost missed the keys when he tossed them at me, almost. I scooped them up and swept a leg over the bike “You live dangerously Cap, undocumented driver… what will we do with you?”

“You’ve got until we get home to figure that out.” He said as he climbed on behind me. His hands were already working at my waistband as I pulled away from the curb.

He pulled and suckled at my neck near my left shoulder and ran the tips of his fingers down past my waistband and along my cock, of all the ways I was distracted today this was the best. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or spurred on by the languid strokes he used as he continued to leave his mark at my neck. Everything was fine as long as I could remember not to buck into his grip. That took a lot of focus, almost more than I had left in me after the day I’d put myself through.

At a traffic light, he laid his hand nonchalantly on my hip as though he hadn’t just been pleasuring me, just over the rumble of the engine I heard him in my ear “When we get home I’m gonna take good care of you baby.” I have to admit, that was almost harder to restrain myself from than his capable hands had been. I was actually surprised when he didn’t resume as we drove away from the light, and I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. By the time we arrived home, the cool air that kept whispering beyond my open fly around his loose hands at my waist, had tempered the need, some. I parked the bike and pivoted to kiss him, licking his lower lip before sucking it between my lips and holding it there between my teeth. His hand on my waist dipped lower over my jeans to palm me through the layers.

“I need you.” I groaned against his mouth.

“I know baby. Let’s go upstairs.” He purred along my cheek before dismounting the bike. He held his hand out and I took it, letting him pull me along behind him.

I followed up the stairs, minding my manners at this busy hour of the day, neighbors popping in and out on the way home from work or out to dinner. But once I was at our door, all manners left me. I stood there as he tried to open the door, grinding against his ass, “Stevie, hurry.” I purred into his neck.

“I could do this quicker if you’d give me two inches of space Buck.” He groaned, distracted and fumbling keys. I caught them before they fell to the floor, although I considered just as quickly dropping them so he’d have to bend to pick them up. I wanted into the apartment, both of us naked in our bed, now. No extra ass grinding would make up for that. It was still tempting. I opened the door, pushing him through the opening and listening to his grumbling, “Seriously, two fucking inches.”

“I’ll give you more than two inches sweetheart.” I whispered along his jaw as I kissed it and his neck from behind him.

He whirled around on me so fast I almost fell back through the doorway, he pushed the door closed and shoved me up against it, aggressively kissing me and shoving my pants down my legs. I tore at his jacket to get it over his shoulders and he pushed at my hands, shrugging out of it and his shirt quickly. I whipped my shirt over my head and flung it across the room. I barely registered clothing strewn across half the room from his discarded shirt and jacket to the pants that he had peeled off of me and kicked aside. I pulled at his jeans, tugging the button off in my rush, I knelt in front of him, looking up at his frustrated face. I wiggled a brow before taking the zipper tag between my teeth and sliding it down, my nose bumping along the length of him. His groan intensified as his fingers grasping at the hairs along my neck found nothing to grab hold of. His fingers traced along my neck and he gripped my jaw and tugged upward, I followed and stood in front of him. He hurried out of his pants and hooked his arms around my neck, thrusting his tongue into my mouth while rubbing his pelvis along my hip. I felt his arousal and it fed my own. He rubbed against me like a cat until I took him by the hips and lifted him. His legs linked around my waist and he teased my cock with his ass. “No Stevie.” I groaned in frustration, “Not without lube baby. No.” He arched his back capturing my cock between his cheeks and gliding along the length.

“I can take it.” He buried his face in my neck but I swear there was a pout there. I could just envision his full lip extended in protest.

“Maybe. No.” I would not do that to him or to me. “two minutes baby. Not even.” I carried him into the bedroom and fumbled for the tube in my bedside table, as he kissed me and moaned about how unfair I was being.

“Yeah, I’m terrible.” I nipped his shoulder, “report me for abuse.”

He grasped the tube from me and impatiently used it to slick up my cock and proceeded to prepare himself. I was mesmerized watching him wrapped around my waist, pivoted just enough to reach, and the look of concentrated ecstasy on his face. I grazed his jaw with my teeth; I wanted to just eat him up. My hand on his ass moved to push his hand aside, and I bit down gently on his throat as I slipped a finger into his hole, his hand returned and his fingers and mine joined in working him. His groan was more a growl under my tongue on his throat.

His hands came around to my cock as he lifted his hips and guided it in alongside my fingers. He held my hand in place as he slid along my length once slowly and again. His eyes bored into mine as he dared me to change a thing. The angle was awkward but it was so fucking amazing. “FUCK Steve. FUCK. You are the sweetest piece of ass babydoll.”

The sighs and moans that escaped his pretty mouth spurred me on. He kept riding me, lifting and dropping at intervals that were unpredictable and intoxicating until I pushed him up against the wall and thrust into him wildly, both of us screaming fucking profanities and biting into each other. Holding him in place between me and the wall with my left arm, I brought my hand around to his cock, and gripped him firmly and started to stroke him with the same frenzy as our fucking. His curses softened into moans and sighs as he came, streaking both of our bellies. He ground his ass down on me and gyrated to encourage my climax. I thrust again and again then I lifted him by his hips, “No, I want you to come inside me.” He all but begged.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He breathed.

“Yeah? Fuck Steve, FUCK. Oh fuck yeah.” Each word was punctuated by his gasps and groans until I was spent and buried my head in his chest. “Fuck, baby.” I breathed, in his scent and kissed his pretty tits. He shifted and I slid out of him. He let his legs slip down my hips and over my thighs, trailing both of our skin with slick cum before he stood on his own. He backed me to the bed, kissing me lazily. When the backs of my legs bumped the bed I toppled over, pulling him over on top of me. “You like that sweetheart?”

“Yeah Buck. I was supposed to take care of you.”

“Oh honey, you did.” I laughed. I put my arms behind my head and watched his features change from concern to bemusement and I laughed some more. “I'm all yours baby doll.” I added once I regained composure.

His fingers skimmed my neck and my chest, followed by kisses. I watched as his head dipped lower and lower, bathing me with kisses. I reached for his cheek and caressed it. He smiled up at me. “I love you Stevie.”

“Love you too Buck.” He murmured against my navel. I laid my hand on his hair, fingering the strands lazily before he moved down along my thigh. He slid off the bed and lifted my feet up onto the mattress, kneeling with his head between my legs, kissing the skin on each inner thigh. His hands moved beneath my ass, and he slid his tongue along my thigh over the lower cheek and along the rim of my hole. I shuddered at the contact and at his brazen actions. This was not something either of us had done before now. I’d been tempted but didn’t know how he felt about it. I let the thought go and pressed my head back into the bed arching to his tongue. He dipped the tip in and I wanted more and I wanted to see his pink tongue as it caressed and prodded.

As I was lost in the moment he pulled away. It felt like ages that I plead for more but it was only a moment before he was back standing over me and he slipped two fingers inside, slicked and curling teasing the sweet spot there. I reached for him, trying to encourage him and he took his free hand and placed each of my hands on my own cock. “I want to watch you James. Stroke your cock baby.” Calling me James during sex was new. I liked it.

“Say it again Steve.” I pulled on my cock, “Say my name again.”

“Sweet James. I want to watch you.” He slipped a third finger and a fourth, “is that good James? Are you ready for me?”

I arched to his hand and kept stroking myself, “YES”

“D’you know why I want to watch you James?” he crooned and I shook my head. “I can see your eyes. Will you let me look into your pretty eyes James?”

He slid the tip inside and I arched to him again taking him in, “yes. Yes. FUCK yes. Fuck me Stevie. I locked eyes with him, the crinkles around his beautiful blue eyes getting more pronounced – he was smiling. He thrust into me and drove hard and fast as I stroked myself to my second climax. It was only fair that he outlasted me this time. He pulled out and I reached for him to stroke him to his release, spilling over my chest and belly. He leaned over me and licked a stripe up my abs to my chest and kissed me, shamelessly.

His hands trailed down my legs to rub my feet lazily. “Join me in a shower?” he said distractedly.

I looked at him he was standing idly rubbing my feet and rolling his neck and shoulders. “We could just curl up together.” He shook his head and held out a hand. The foot that he’d released dropped to the floor, and then I pulled the other foot from his grasp and put it on the floor too.

I let him pull me along to the bathroom. Instead of the shower, he pulled out one of the Lush bath bombs Ember had tucked into our Christmas gifts and drew a hot bath. I stepped in and then he followed, sinking into the soft, fragrant water where we lingered in a huddle of naked tiredness. He slowly lathered my body from my shoulders to my ankles, paying extra attention to muscles. I could have fallen asleep through the care he was giving me it was so relaxing. Instead I took the soap from him and started at his shoulders, down his back and over his ass. I ordered him to face me and I soaped and massaged his legs and feet much the same as he had done for me. “I love you Buck. Or is it James?” he beamed.

“You can call me whatever you want sweetheart.” I smiled softly at him, “I love you too, punk.”


	22. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This happens directly after this chapter in Steve's unsent letters [Make Me Your Choice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815275/chapters/13521817)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some restraints come into play when the smut happens.

I’ve been thinking of the man at the barber shop, James. I woke up thinking about this man who hadn’t been born when I fell. This man whose father got to go home when I didn’t and he got to create a family because I did something.

I followed Steve into battle.

I was involved from a distance so often, perched up high and using my skill as a marksman. But I was also on the ground with him, shoulder to shoulder. We fought and we tore things down and blew them up. Sometimes we also opened trap doors and cell doors and pulled, physically yanked men out by the dozens.

One of these times, there was a man who got to go home and father a son and tell him stories of me. Not of Captain America, but of me. If there was one of the dozens and dozens, there might have been more. I may have positively impacted people, and generations in the process, without knowing.

I twisted the ring on my finger, looking at Steve in his sleepy glory. He was lying on his side, his arm had been over me before I moved, but it now rested in front of him his fingers curled and just a whisper away from his full pink lips. I smiled as his face twitched in sleep, a dream – not a nightmare – animating him slightly. He’d proposed just hours before, dancing with me in the kitchen. Maybe the ghost of a smile was from dreaming of that.

I hadn’t expected it, we’d never discussed it, but the second he’d said “marry me Buck” I knew I’d never known such happiness. Still, couldn’t let the punk see through me too much, so I made him ask. It’s what you do, right? Wouldn’t matter if he’d said “ _crissakes would ya already_?” I would. But what he did say was better.

> “Bucky,” he fought a smile, oh he knew, yet he proceeded, “I’ve loved you for longer than even I knew, I can’t go a single day without you and your stubborn and twisted sense of humor. You’re the first person I call when I have something to share, your face is the first thing I crave seeing when I wake up and the best thing I can think of to end the day. Will you guarantee those things for me for the rest of my days? Will you marry me?”

For someone who teases this man about lacking romantic language skills, I was put in my place.

I’m watching him now as he sleeps, as I ponder my worth to society in general, wondering how many Jameses and Jamies there might be because I followed – is that drool Steve? He’s so much more commanding when he’s awake – little Steve Rogers across Europe.

I think I’d go shoulder to shoulder with him again. As much as I said I was through with the fight, maybe the fight isn’t through with me. If the man I love can go to battle after all he’s seen, after being used by the government as a machine, perhaps I can too. I’d feel better knowing I had his six, trusting only Sam and maybe Barton, but those two very nice guys are very mismatched when it comes to some of the threats they put themselves in the way of.

Now I’m not saying I’m giving up the dream of becoming a teacher. I could be the “super hero” version of Indiana Jones. Heading up a class and lighting out on a mission within days, even hours of the other. Yeah Buck, you’re definitely romanticizing this.

I have a reprieve in the timeframe to make a decision or – you know – figure out where to go if shit goes south since my safety net was exposed when hydra invaded our home. The attorney, Shayla, had to postpone our meeting as her current high profile case had hit a snag and she wants to dedicate her attention to us, so as soon as it’s resolved we’re next on her roster. I’m ok with that on one hand, but I’d started to be resigned to it in the timeframe it was happening so again, I adjust.

I’m meeting with Dr. P. the day after tomorrow and as much as I’d dreaded it this past week, I find I’m looking forward to it. When I said as much to Steve he teased me about having a crush on the doc. I do, but he’s not supposed to know. I’m so transparent. That’s not true at all, actually. But I’m pretty sure at some point the good doc is going to want to read my journal and aside from the sexy bits, there ought to be a little 'Bucky likes the doc' stuff just to turn his ears pink.

In actuality I’m looking forward to talking with him, he gave me the assignment of taking something good from challenges and it’s a thinking exercise. I wonder if it’s what has me thinking so much about James and my possible positive impact on the world?

I looked up to see hazy blue eyes peeking up at me, Steve’s features still sleepy but smiling, “Hey you.” He said, his voice snooze-drunk.

“Hey back.” I brushed his cheek with my fingers.

“You ok? Bad dreams?”

“Yeah, I’m ok. No dreams, no sleep just yet.”

He sat up and faced me. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

“I was just thinking about that man at the barber shop. James.”

He waited for me to continue.

“In recent years all I did was kill.” His hand touched my calf, “Back before he was born I was also killing but I was actively saving people too. I saved his father so he could come home and have a family. Those times I “pulled people out” I pulled people into their lives. I sent them off so they could go home and part of me is jealous because they got to **go home** , but another part is just proud.

“I should be able to count the number of people I saved. It would only be fair since someone is keeping a tally of the number of people I’ve killed.”

“I’m guessing the saves outnumber the kills.” he offered, rubbing my leg absently.

“I'm guessing you’re wrong.” He looked up at me, ready to fight. I gave him a small smile, “You have to count the kills in the war Steve.”

“Do we? They were the enemy.”

“They were _our_ enemy. Recent _missions_ were supposedly _my_ enemy. I have to count them all.”

“I'm still right.” He said with a smug look on his face.

“How do you figure?” I was genuinely intrigued by whatever could light him up with such a look.

“You saved men who came home and had families, which grew to create more families. Which means you saved more people than you killed.”

“Well, now I see how it is that you can sweet talk anyone.” I brushed my fingers along the side of his face, “You mastered semantics did you?”

“In my free time.” He kissed my hand before it escaped his jaw. “I need to keep up with you. Speaking of keeping up with you, what else has you so pensive?”

I laughed dryly. “As if death isn’t enough?”

“I know you,” he took my left hand in his, fiddling with the ring like I had done before, “you have half a dozen things up in the air right now.”

“I thought maybe…” I paused trying to decide if I had a backup subject if I couldn’t spit it out. I didn’t, so I deviated, “hey – you never seem bothered by this.” I wiggled my fingers in his hand.

“I’m bothered that it’s necessary. I hate that you lost an arm. But I’m impressed with your acceptance, now that you _can_ _choose_ to accept or despise it. And I’m as impressed as you are with its design and functionality. It’s a part of you and I love all parts that make up what is you. Aaand that’s not what you were thinking.” He grinned, kissing the metal fingers just like so many other times.

“No, you caught me. I had been thinking it might be good to join you and Sam if the Avengers would have me.”

His frown bothered me, it hurt to think that he wouldn’t want me. Or worse, couldn’t trust me.

“Are you sure? You said you were done fighting. If it’s because of the attack I’ll find and destroy every hydra –”

“Steve, don’t get so indignant, just tell me you can’t trust me at your back and I’ll find something else to do. I just thought –”

“Now who’s getting indignant? You’re projecting. I am upset that you finally had a chance at peace and you feel you have to –”

“No. I _want_ to fight alongside you. It has nothing to do with what happened here, ok-not as much as it does the fact that I am able and capable. I can run missions with the best of them, you know that. You knew that.”

“Yes, and you never really wanted to. Why the big change?”

“I’m different now. Yeah, I want peace, we all do deep down. But I can’t just sit back and wait for you to bring the peace. I have to be involved.”

“Well, you can just forget about me not being able to trust you because that’s nonsense. And I’m pretty sure I can persuade the team. You’ll have to meet them of course, but you know Clint and Sam. Fury’s been chomping at the bit to know more about the hydra attack so that should be fun.”

I think he meant it, the devilish grin he shot me has me convinced.

“You looking forward to torturing me with Fury or torturing Fury with me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous two things I would **never** do. I would never actively torture you, I’m hurt that you’d even joke about that **and** I would **never** use you for anything including torturing people for my amusement.” He was indignant again and I smiled at his protective streak, “I’m looking forward to the showdown. I know it will happen and it should be really entertaining.”

“So you won’t use me. But you’ll wait for me to perform for you.” I made him squirm.

“I’ll wait for the inevitable. And fucking enjoy it.”

“What if I don’t give you what you think is inevitable? What if I’m the picture of patience and decorum and I take my issues with Fury outside for a smoke? What then, mr. smug?”

He tackled me, shoving my shoulders into the mattress and straddled my hips, “Then you’re really well adjusted.” He smirked kissing my neck, “If you can do that, you should be as proud as I would be.”

“Still smug.” I bucked my hips, grinding against him. I grabbed his waist to hold him in place,"You wouldn't even use me or torture me during sex?" I winked, "you know, good clean-dirty fun??"  he took my hands and pressed them into the bed over my head.

“You have to tell me if this is ok.” He whispered tentatively.

I nodded eagerly, "That was fast."

“Safeword?”

“It’s ok, Stevie, it is.”

“No. I need to know. We’re both prone to breaking down. Fuck.” He moved to sit at my side. “We have to have a safe word for the next time.”

“What happened to this time?” I turned to face him, tracing the tension in his jaw. “We can get it back.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“Safeword.” Was all he said.

“I know, how about… something we can’t get mixed up with all the noise… the safest thing we know aside from each other, home… ‘Brooklyn’.”

His smile returned and he was on top of me like a shot, pinning my arms above my head.

His grip was steely as he gripped my wrists in one hand, “Don’t you have any gear from missions?” I asked him with a smirk, thinking I would make him blush. Instead I just made him order me around.

“Don’t move a muscle.” He moved to the closet and I heard him unzip the bag and I heard jingling.

“Steve?” I was curious, couldn’t keep a grin off my face.

“Said don’t move a muscle.” He sassed. He came back to the side of the bed and wrapped the shackles around my wrists. “I know you can break these.” He said, staring me down. “You have to refrain from breaking them. You break them it’s an automatic “Brooklyn”.”

I looked into his eyes, resisting the urge to lift an eyebrow or smirk or both.

He wrapped a belt around the chain of the shackles and the headboard bed post. “You break the bed, same thing – _and_ you sleep on the sofa.” He sneered.

My heart was rushing, but it felt good. I immediately craved touching him as soon as the option was taken from me. I wanted to reach for him as he straddled me again. I wanted to arch my hips to his.

“Bucky. You’re doing so well.” He crooned as he touched my chest and dragged his strong hands down my abdomen. “Such a beautiful, beautiful body.” He leaned forward and sucked at my throat, pulling and biting. “You. Are. Fantastic.” He punctuated each word with a nip.

I was trembling under his touches, I wanted more than he was giving me. I wanted to talk to tell him how unfair he was, how beautiful he was. He sat up astride my thighs, pulling my pajama bottoms down over my erection. Then he sat back, his hands on his own thighs.

I felt his eyes on me as if they were a physical touch. He looked me up and down, scanning first my bound arms then my head. His gaze lingered on my lips, which I didn’t lick. No matter how much I wanted to.

“You can answer me.” He said, “Are you still ok?”

“Yes.” I breathed, “Yes.”

“You know that the safeword transcends anything else I say or do?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want Buck?”

“To touch you.” I breathed.

“Nope. What else?”

“You to touch me.”

“We’ll get there.”

“Steve!” I tried to protest. He put his finger to my lips without touching them. I wanted to reach up to meet his skin with mine. I didn’t.

I wanted to take his finger into my mouth. I didn’t.

His eyes wandered down my shoulders, taking stock of my scars, I’m sure. I saw his gaze linger probably on my nipples, which sprung to attention under his scrutiny. He licked his lips as his eyes lowered down my abdomen, I almost slipped and moved, wanting to – so desperately – encourage him to delve that tongue into my navel and down.

I slowly pulled in a long breath of air and let it out. He moved from my thighs, around to straddle my abdomen, ass in my face. Legitimately I could have licked my lips, I could have closed my eyes more than a blink. He wouldn’t have seen it. I did neither. Again with the long slow inhalation. Soft exhalation. He leaned forward to push my pants down my legs the rest of the way. He touched my thighs long enough to pull my legs to a bent position one at a time to remove them from the pants. More controlled breathing as he leaned over my erection and ignored it and I got an eye full of his beautiful posterior. His knees pressed against my ribs as he felt my breaths deepening.

So there I was, lying prone, tied to the headboard, my knees up, my feet planted on the mattress, with my fiancé’s ass in my face and I couldn’t sigh. I couldn’t gasp. I couldn’t touch. He rose from the kneeling position to all fours and leaned over my crotch, dipping his nose to the crux where my thigh met my pelvis. He was still not touching me except for the soft whisper of breath as he exhaled through his nose. He turned to look at me, licking his lips and grinning then repeated the not-touching on the other hip.

“Bucky.” He breathed, the air whooshing around my package, causing my balls to tighten. I wanted to answer but it wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even really conversation. “Bucky, my love.” He crooned, caressing my skin with the breath that used to struggle from him. I felt my resolve slip, I wanted to touch, I wanted to beg. My toes resisted curling, only barely.

I tried to look past his soft, firm ass to the sleep tousled hair but he dipped down again, his shoulders hiding him from me. As he reached forward his hips opened and his cheeks parted. He was deep beneath my balls now, just a whisper away from my perineum and I hoped, maybe, he’d finally touch me. “Bucky” he whispered again, the warm breath caressing my tender skin, his glorious entrance and his cock and balls on display just feet from my face.

My cock was dripping and the warmth was cooling as it trickled down the length. As he drew away and rose to sit back again, his chest just barely skimmed the tip of my straining member. I still resisted bucking up to get more contact but my breathing was much less controlled. I as sucking in shorter drinks of air and they were louder, almost like a purr.

His hands on my thighs practically burned and my muscles beneath his hands reacted against my orders. His chuckle made my cock twitch. His fingers followed the reverse path his breaths had, touching my perineum with the calloused pads of his fingers. He cupped my balls with a firm squeeze before sliding the tips of each finger up and along my length. “Shh…” he crooned making me wonder if something had escaped my lips. “Don’t come yet baby.” He said, authority laced with sweetness as he leaned forward again, following his pinky fingers with his tongue. I could feel everything from my own muscles tensing to my ass clenching. I felt his warm, wet tongue and his breath on my cock and the hairs on his legs tickling the sides of my torso. I could feel the pull in my right shoulder and the twinge down my back from my left. My mouth was dry, my tongue itched to be planted between his cheeks which in all their alabaster glory were still on vivid display in front of me. I could feel my toes threatening to curl under my legs and my knees and thighs were on the verge of trembling.

He licked around the head of my cock, holding my hips firmly to the bed. He’d already told me not to move, I was already tied down, this extra restraint was a power play, damn him.

My breaths heaved and he tightened his knees at my ribs again, sharply. He spent much too much time teasing my cock after that. I schooled my breathing and when he was satisfied, he moved to my side then positioned himself between my legs, spreading my thighs wide and lifting my ass to his bent knees. His cock teased my entrance before he placed lubed fingers at my eager entrance – “that slick bastard” I thought and almost laughed at my own pun. He must have stashed it when he’d come back to the bed and he must have grabbed it as he moved but I missed it, my guard was otherwise focused. – He slipped first one then two in, circling so god damned slowly, not even past the first fucking knuckle. He winked at me. “So good Buck. Don’t come yet baby.”

Doesn’t he know that on an ordinary day I could come by him just calling me “baby”?

“Steve.” I broke it, “Steve I need.”

“Shhh.” He commanded softly, stopping his fingers.

I nodded once, closed my eyes and licked my dry lips before settling back with long breaths. He resumed only after I opened my eyes again and caught his gaze.

“Put your legs over my shoulders.” He ordered.

I resisted for a long half-minute and he stopped moving his fingers again. I breathed in and out before complying. He thrust three fingers in when I did so and curled them, stretching and teasing. I resisted pressing down against his fingers. My fingers twitched, “4” they said. He stopped again with a wink and a grin before removing them entirely. “4” he held up his own four fingers. “More you greedy boy?”

“Yes. Please!” it was a question. He’d said I could answer. Apparently it was acceptable because he complied with my request instead of punishing me for my defiant message.

“Ok, beautiful boy, but no more of that sneaky stuff.”

I wanted so desperately to thrust my ass down on his hand. I wanted to cram my eyes closed and wrench my head back and forth. I wanted to grab him and touch him.

His fingers grazed my prostate, sending shock waves through my starved body. The heat was electric and for a moment I almost called out the safe word. My ass clenched around him involuntarily and I froze looking at him pleading with him not to stop. I felt degraded and empty as he withdrew but he must have recognized the devastation “Shh baby, you’re doing so well. Tell me you’re ok”

“I need you!” that wasn’t what was supposed to come out.

“Are you ok?” He said softly, touching the space he’d vacated with the tip of his cock. “Tell me if you’re ok Buck.”

“I’m ok.” I nodded eagerly, “I’m ok.”

He took the lube and slowly, lazily stroked himself. He locked eyes with me, methodically pulling and stroking his cock. He slipped the tip past the ring that clenched around him, his hands moved from himself to my ass, kneading my cheeks, tilting my hips as he pressed inside further. He pulled my hips toward him, sliding my body down the bed, stretching my arms over my head more. He pulled me sharply and my ass hit his pelvis with a slap. I bit back the cry, the groan, whatever it was.

He pushed me away, his length nearly slipping out before yanking me back to him. This time the groan escaped. He stilled and I had to force a whimper down deep inside of me with short measured breaths. He thrust into me in time with my breathing before shifting me to my side, one leg up, the other he arranged on the bed and straightened it out with a soft kick from his foot. He laid behind me, thrusting, palming my stomach and kissing my shoulder.  His fingers grazed my cock as it bounced freely, straining and leaking.  He kissed my shoulder, “make noise for me baby.”

“Oh GOD Oh God FUCK Steve THANK YOU FUCK-fuck-fuck Stevie, I love you, you fucker.” Each word was punctuated by a fast thrust and the slap of skin on skin. “Please more! Touch me!”

“You wanna come baby? Come for me beautiful” his thrusts kept rocking me but he wasn’t touching me.

“Touch me you ass. Jerk it punk!” I yelled.

“Come for me baby.” He repeated, nipping my throat, Touching my chest and my abdomen but not my cock. He pulled out. “I’m going to come… do you want it?”

“In me!” I moaned.

“Come for me.” He ground out as he thrust deep and shuddered thrusting erratically. My release finally came and coated his hands and my chest as well as the bed. “That’s good sweetheart, so, so good.” He finally took my cock in his hands and lovingly stroked it back to fully hard as he kept rocking inside me. “So beautiful.” He pressed kisses to my ear as he stroked me leisurely. He grew hard again and started thrusting rhythmically. He leaned up on an arm, bending over to nip at my hip as he kept thrusting and jerking me. “What do you want from me baby?”

“Before, you had your ass in my face…”

He shifted, pulling out before he came again, and straddled my chest. He pushed his ass in my face. He leaned over and took my cock into his mouth as I leaned forward to press my nose between his cheeks. I licked from his balls to that sweet, sweet hole, tickling his perineum before circling the ring with my tongue. I wanted to grab his ass, separating his cheeks further but I was still fucking tied up. I thrust into his mouth as he pulled and sucked licking and teasing me closer to the edge. I dipped my tongue in and he shuddered, moaning over my cock. “Closer Stevie” I moaned, his ass pressed against my face, thrusting my tongue deeper. I thrust as he pushed back on me again and again and my hips stilled as I came in the velvety warmth of his mouth. He sat back letting my dick fall from his lips and pressing my tongue deeper again. I pulled back, kissed his cheeks, “Do I still get to tell you what I want?”

He turned around and faced me, “Are you still ok?” at my nod he answered my question, “no, baby. It’s my turn.”

I wasn’t even worried about being ready again, just those words caused it to twitch. “Same rules?”

“No, you can move and you are ordered to make noise. Lots of noise.” He grasped the lube and coated me and used his slicked fingers to prep himself as I watched him. His eyes closed with the action and I thrust against his thigh, definitely ready again. I heard him moan as he rocked against his fingers and his lips looked so pretty.

“My pretty Stevie.” I caressed him with my voice. He positioned himself over me and guided me into his tight, slick entrance. He sank down firmly with a sigh I watched him grab himself and caress the tip before stroking and pulling. He threw his head back as he pulled and rocked. I thrust up into him methodically, slowly. He tried to escalate the pace by lifting and reseating himself and I rocked my hips to meet his. I could see his arousal ready to spill and I was close, so fucking close. I pulled back and he slammed down, he lifted and I thrust harshly. I thrusted repeatedly as I spilled yet more and he coated his hands and my belly with his climax.

Feeling quite finished, I fell back against the pillow. “So. Fucking. Good.” I gasped. “Please. Untie. Me.” I panted.

He slid up my body, kissing my chest and neck and jaw. He kissed me deeply, as our breathing returned to normal then he unbuckled the belt and gently lowered my arms. He helped me sit and rubbed my shoulder and back, kissing my neck. “So good, baby.” He crooned. He moved around in front of me and removed the shackles, rubbing my wrists anxiously, “Are we good?” he asked, on his knees in front of me.

I took his face in my hands, caressed his jaw and ruffled his hair. “W’re so good baby.” I smiled, kissing his forehead and his nose and his mouth. “so, so good.”

“I was so worried, restraining you. I – Bucky I want to say sorry or –”

I chuckled and kissed him again. “Baby, I trust you, I asked for it. Literally asked. If it makes you feel better, we can restrain you next time.” I grinned. “Look at me! I’m sweaty and sticky and sated and oh so tired. Above all, I’m _happy_.”

“I love you so much Buck.” His blue eyes burned like fire with the depth of his love.

“I love you doll.” The grin not leaving my face. “I’m too tired to clean up, come sleep with me?”

“I can clean us both up sweetheart.” He tried to insist.

I tugged him up and over on top of me, then rolled us onto our sides, “Sleep sweet boy.” I crooned, running my fingers through his sweaty, messy hair and kissing his jaw. “Sleep.”


	23. Meet the Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My inner monologue went something like this; OK Steve but let’s talk about this, Clint and Sam, yes. I’ve had coffee with Clint and we all know how Sam has helped me shape my life. Natasha and I battled one another. That’s the last she knows of me and just because you’ve confided in her, that doesn’t equal any level of acceptance. Last but not least, “couple more people”? As in a fucking God and the man whose father I killed. Yeah, that ought to go real well.

 

The room I was sitting in was warm, too warm. I’d worn a tee shirt and jeans in spite of the season, it was warm that day, and didn’t they know they can regulate the temperature in buildings these days. Probably one of many tactics to take to make people uncomfortable, after all, it was Tony Stark’s damned building I was sitting in.

How did I get here?

Oh right, Fury wanted to meet me but first Steve wanted me to meet his friends. I guess if I had their approval, then meeting Fury would be easier? I don’t know, I didn’t ask him for his reasoning behind the request. Instead, I asked him what I should wear to look less intimidating. Apparently, I make an impression on people.

This was for Steve and I didn’t want to blow it before it even got started, I didn’t want Steve to feel like I was trying to sabotage things. “Just be comfortable, Buck. You’re not coming in as a surprise to anyone, Nat knows about you, Clint and Sam _know you_. There’s just a couple more people who need to meet you.”

My inner monologue went something like this; OK Steve but let’s talk about this, Clint and Sam, yes. I’ve had coffee with Clint and we all know how Sam has helped me shape my life. Natasha and I battled one another. That’s the last she knows of me and just because you’ve confided in her, that doesn’t equal any level of acceptance. Last but not least, “couple more people”? As in a fucking God and the man whose father I killed. Yeah, that ought to go real well. Instead, I said “ok then. Let’s do this.”

It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. We went together, of course and I was left sitting alone in the warm room all of ten minutes while Steve went in ahead probably to warn them about me. When he came back he had a soft smile on his dopey face. “C’mon Buck.” He said quietly, like he was afraid to wake the beast.

He was nervous. That was new, he was the champion of this thing before he went in there alone. Now I wasn’t sure if the nerves were over my potential behavior or whether or not they would accept me or what. Once we were closed in the elevator he told me, “they know we’re engaged.”

I turned and looked at him, shocked and overwhelmed by emotion. “Why?” the word grated over a lump in my throat.

“Because I love you, dope.”

“No, I mean – weren’t you waiting to see if they’d approve of me?”

“Shit Buck, if I cared whether or not they approved – that would be shitty. I wanted it to be less awkward. Answering for these,” he touched my ring and held his hand up, wiggling his ring finger in my face, “in the middle of introductions would just be nerve-wracking.”

“And this little adventure isn’t?” I asked, still choked up over his ridiculousness.

“Exactly, so _less_ nerve-wracking.”

“Shouldn’t we have waited until after the attorney meeting?”

“Bucky, I’d like to have their support before going in, like we have with Sam and Clint. And I’d rather they know ahead of time so the press afterward isn’t the way they find out about us.”

“Baby, you know they support you.”

“I want it for _us_.” He was emphatic. Passionate.

“Why do you think I’m here, only mildly complaining?”  I reassured him, because he needed to know that I was serious about being there for him more than I was nervous. “I should have worn something different.” I tugged at the neck of my t-shirt and he swatted my hand away.

“Nonsense, this is perfect. You look –”

“Ridiculous?”

“Sexy.” He grinned as we were about to leave the elevator.

“You’re ridiculous then.” I pulled him to me, and kissed him, he slid his hands into my back pockets, and I did the same, teasing him. “We’re being watched.” I whispered in his ear.

“Like I said, they know.”

“You’re proud of that, aren’t you?”

“You better believe it.” he smirked slipping his hands up and away before taking my hand in his to actually, physically drag me into a group of people.

“Whatever he told you, don’t believe him.” I said before he could speak. “Except for the engagement part. That’s true.”

He immediately blushed and stammered and then just screwed up his face in a scowl, meant exclusively for me, to which I winked and stepped forward to clasp Sam then Clint in hugs.

 _That_ was where my bravado ended, the giant that was Thor stood over me with an amused look, but all I could see was mass. I am _not_ easily intimidated but somehow this situation had me second guessing my existence. Thor, though, wasn’t having any of it gripping my arm in a friendly shake and an exuberant welcome. “I am pleased to meet you; your captain has told me many good things. Please accept my good spirits and well wishes for your engagement.”

Ok, this guy… I like him. No judgement just ancient breeding and manners. Fuck, I just realized that he’s older than I am.

I got the feeling that Steve had given them some kind of “behave yourselves” speech, as things were awkward for a short time before Natasha and Stark started to look to Thor, Sam, and Clint for their cues. Maybe they were as intimidated by me as I had been by Thor?

Natasha, as many times as I’d heard about her, and as often as I’d seen flashes on news reports, this meeting struck a chord. Something deep is scratching to get out and I can’t put my finger on it. I know I fought her, that isn’t in doubt but some ancient déjà vu tickled the hairs on the back of my neck. She was cordial, if a little cagey, which Steve says is “Just Nat”. Hell, I’m cagey on a good day. I guess that’s all it is. She even went as far as to threaten me, “you hurt him and you answer to me.” She practically growled, keeping her features impassive but her eyes sparkled with warning.

“Hey, he’s the last person I want to hurt. If I had a soul, he’d be it.”

She nodded, as if she felt what I was saying deeper than understanding it. “Good.” I still wonder if I imagined the wink, it seems like it would be so out of character for her, but I’m convinced there was a wink.

I honestly cannot imagine how Steve hasn’t knocked Stark across the room. Stark’s defense mechanism is sarcasm, and a basic fuck you attitude… but I like it. He’s irreverent and cocky and just a little bit insecure deep down. The man tried everything he could to irritate me and I tried everything I knew to counter it just to annoy him back, only to both receive disappointed glares from Steve. Guess what that did? Made the two of us have more than just one laugh at Steve’s expense, together.

The laughter broke the tension and we discovered more than just a shared and bizarre sense of humor. We seemed to bond over technology. He led me, talking faster than I could follow, to his vast work area. He asked about things I was only just starting to look into, told me about things I couldn’t exactly comprehend. “Hold up… you’re going to have to remember I’m teaching myself things I can find on the internet – I didn’t create any of this stuff, I’m still learning about it. We’re talking building PC’s not –” I indicated the entire room with a 360° turn, “this.”

“Y’gotta start somewhere. Which – hey let’s start with the arm! How have you been maintaining it?”

I didn’t really get a chance to answer, he walked away, came back, still talking – asking about the technology and the specifications. I sighed.

“I can’t answer any of your questions if you don’t stop asking them. Why are you? I mean – I know Steve probably ordered everyone to be nice to me – but you. Why? Of all people.”

“Rogers might be in charge, but he doesn’t get to order me around. Why? Do you mean why be nice to the man who was influenced to assassinate my father? That why?” his features were calm, his eyes were clear and he seemed genuine.

“Well, yes. If you want to discuss it so casually.” I looked at him, shocked.

“Because I just said it. Influence. If he were over there right now – in that room… would you kill him?”

“No.” I looked at him like that was the stupidest question anyone had ever asked. “That’s the best thing anyone has ever said, Tony. Thank you.”

“It just makes sense. So about the arm? You have specs?”

“I have specs, a toolkit and upgrade protocols. I just have trouble with reaching and accessing to do more than maintenance. I never thought much about it. If it ain’t broke –”

“Stupid.”

“What?”

“That idiom, it’s stupid. Just because something works doesn’t mean it can’t work better.” Stark admonished.

“Well, if you have better ideas, I can bring the stuff I got from the hydra base. It seems you’d be too busy to mess with –”

“What? Too busy to learn about something? Too busy to look into the depths of something Hydra made? You don’t know me very well.”

“I just met you, I don’t know you at all, and you talk circles around me expressly so that I can’t get to know you.” He stopped, it was almost like a complete reboot as he took in what I said. I smiled at his reaction, “I’d be happy to bring the stuff, if you’d like to take the time to mess with this. I can’t think of a better way to get to know each other.”

“I keep odd hours.” It was almost posed as a question, maybe even a challenge.

“I do too.” I confirmed, “Whatever works for you, since it’s you who would be doing me the favor. Just let me know what’s convenient.”

“You are not what I expected.” He shook his head as he fiddled with things I couldn’t identify.

“I hope that’s a good thing. If it needs to be said, you’re a far cry from what I expected myself. I half expected to be met by the suit and the repulsors. Or the guy in the press. You’re a complex individual Stark.”

“And you. You are nothing like Capcicle in there. I expected more brooding.”

“Seriously? I thought he was giving me shit telling me you call him things like that,” I lost it, seriously I figured it was just Steve being dramatic and telling stories, and when I heard Stark say it just the way Steve had impersonated him, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t laugh, I’m sure I can come up with a thing or five for you.”

“Not until you know me better.”

“Never stopped me before. Let’s see – we can go with the obvious, Robocop.”

“1987 or 2014?” I asked genuinely curious.

“87, of course. Or there’s Mr. Roboto. CyborCriminal feels too forced.”

“Stark. You’re a fathead.” I shook my head, laughing

He shook his head in what was the most brilliantly executed triple-take I think has ever been attempted, “What?”

“Forgive me, old-timey slang… Stupid. You’re being stupid.” I laughed “I can’t even fake serious with you right now – just call me whatever you want.”

“You seemed ok with Robocop, did I pick the right era? How do you even know there is more than one?”

“I’ve got access to a large-and-growing video library thanks to a bunch of cine-turd recommendations Steve keeps bringing home from _somewhere_.”

“Oh, that’s definitely _not_ me. Only the best. Just ask anyone – on second thought, don’t. Nobody appreciates my genius.”

“Seems you do.” I smirked.

“Are you two still going at it? It’s good to see you both without bruises or worse.” Steve came in, slipping his arms around my waist. I was pleased and a little surprised at his level of comfort to be able to do so in front of just anyone then reminded myself that Tony was a virtual stranger to _me_ not to Steve.

“Yes. It’s never going to end. He’s trying to pin some godawful nickname on me and I volunteered to be a lab rat. HELP ME Steve!” I leaned back against him, my mock anguish making him chuckle.

“You heard him, he volunteered… JARVIS do you have that for future reference? I hope you weren’t slacking off.”

I’d heard multiple people in addition to Stark interacting with JARVIS – which I’d already heard so much about and had been warned again when we were on our way “JARVIS sounds human, sounds real and responds accordingly. It’s a little disorientating at first but you’ll get used to it.” I had no problem with JARVIS, but to hear my own words – in a voice I recognized but not quite – cycling back to me was different and more than a “little disorientating”. I tensed, clenching my fingers – digging into Steve’s arms.

“Buck?” he said it quietly.

“Sir, Sergeant Barnes’ heartrate just increased exponentially, Captain Rogers, is there anything that I can do –”

“Bucky, are you ok?”

“I’m ok.” I breathed in and out, controlled breathing repeatedly until I loosened my grasp on Steve’s forearms. “I’m ok. JARVIS, please don’t replay my voice again when I’m here.” I looked at Stark for a rebuttal.

“I’m not arguing. JARVIS do not replay Sergeant Barnes’ voice when he’s around, but keep that gem for me anyway.” Even though I wasn’t yet in a good place, I could appreciate the humor behind his offbeat comment.

“Yes sir.” The AI responded – with more words I tuned out and couldn’t tell you what they were.

“I need air.” I gasped, Steve pulled away from me and held out a hand. I followed as he led me outside. “I’m sorry, that was very weird.”

“It’s ok. Anything you’d like to talk about? If not, I understand.”

“I was in a nightclub, on assignment in the 80’s.” I started, telling the story as emotionally removed from the event as I could be, “I was in the DJ booth with the DJ, he was just a kid, and I held him at knifepoint while I lined up my shot. The fool turned the mike on as I said something, trying to silence him without making him into a victim. I heard my own words play out, across the entire club as I took the shot and sliced the kid’s throat simultaneously. Not only was I exposed, I’d deviated, it was sloppy, and I was punished before they returned me to the ice.”

I turned to him, expecting to see the worst, but only saw Steve. He held his arms open and I crashed into him, letting tears fall silently, he let the silence wash over us, not having any words, not needing any words. I was the one to break the silence, “Is there an escape route where I don’t have to see anyone?”

“Nope. You have no reason to skulk out of here, you’re with people who have been in positions beyond their control, who have regrets and nightmares and day terrors. Not one person in there will judge you and only one other person besides me even witnessed your very mild and not-at-all embarrassing moment. Tony, of all people, gets it. If JARVIS knew a protocol to follow to relax you, _he_ would have employed it, just like he does for Tony when he has an episode.”

“I can’t answer any questions. Telling you was tough enough.”

“No answers required baby. Tony already dismissed it. He’s going to start talking at you again just like he already was and whatever tidbits you can pull out you can try to make conversation with.”

“You know that’s not true. You like to rag on Stark, it gives you life. I was enjoying myself. Then that voice.”

“I’m going to tell you something, I love _that voice,_ especially when you’re singing. I understand why it upset you though. Dr. P. I think you should work through it with Dr. P… you could record and replay your voice, in a safe environment. I mean, not all at once, and I’m sure Tony would let you work with JARVIS in a private room or –”

I touched his cheek to stop him, “You’re trying to fix things. That’s cute and I love you for it. I _will_ talk to Dr. P and he will probably give me exactly that assignment. But today, let’s drop it. We’re going to enjoy the rest of this day. Stark is going to show me more of his toys. Unless he’s finally frightened of me.”

“Funny.” He huffed, clearly _not_ amused, “You ok to go back in?”

I wasn’t sure if I was or not, I would still be going into the lion’s den, full of strangers and I could be dragged down again in front of someone.

“If you’re not ready we can hang out here a while longer. But I repeat, these people are my friends and they’ve all dealt with their own shit. I wish Banner was here, he could probably talk to you better than even I am.”

“Nonsense. You’re all I need. I’ll meet him another time. What matters is that I’m _able_ to go back inside, I can avoid it forever if I wait to actually be _ready_.”

“Come on then.” He put his arm around my waist and we walked back the way we came.

“Saxophone.” I said quietly.

“What Buck?” he turned to look at me.

“Saxophone, early 40’s or inspired by the era. I like swing and some jazz. It’s what I listen to when I need to clear my thoughts. You said if JARVIS could “know”…”

“Oh. Ok then. JARVIS?”

“Yes Steve?”

“When Sergeant Barnes – Bucky – has a moment like earlier, would you play predominantly saxophone, swing and some jazz at a low level?” he looked at me questioningly.

“Yeah perfect.” I agreed.

“Bucky, would you prefer I call you that? You can always indicate what you would like to skip or remove from play.”

“Thank you, JARVIS. Hey JARVIS?”

“Yes Bucky?”

“How many people are freaked out talking to you for the first time? I mean I was going to ask Steve but that seems rude to not just ask you.”

“Oh god, JARVIS he’s another Tony.”

“In answer to your question, Bucky, everyone experiences a different adjustment period. Mister Stark has lost the pool however because your adjustment seems to have taken less time than Captain Rogers’ did.

“That’s because he’s RoboCop…. Or did we decide on Mr. Roboto?” Tony chimed in. “Doesn’t count, that’s cheating.”

And that’s when Steve washed his hands of both of us and went back to the lounge to visit with his other friends.


	24. The Gift of Time

Nick Fury was a whole different story. The forgiveness gods are going to tire of my asking. I’ve been begging forgiveness for all that I’ve done and now I have to meet yet another man I’ve tried to kill. Having Natasha there will set Steve’s mind at ease but it just has mine working overtime. I know her. I just can’t figure out how. Steve says that I need to stop fixating on it; he’s certain that it’s because I’ve tried to kill her twice or more. Hello, forgiveness gods??

The morning of the meeting, Steve had worked things out to minute detail, except for ‘what Bucky would be wearing’. So I was on my own, again. Sorry, not wearing jeans and a t-shirt for this one. He called Ember, asked her to set aside a space and have some sweets (for me?) and coffee (also for me) set up and ready for four people. “Oh, and whatever positive mojo you can work, please do so.” He’s ridiculously cute saying “positive mojo” for what it’s worth.

I pulled out the clothes Steve had bought for me for Christmas, a nice pair of dress pants and a tailored shirt. I could do this, I used to dress to the nines, and this should be simple. He’d warned me early enough that I had gone to the barber the day before, freshly shaved and trimmed, and a second meeting with James. That was a real treat, one I kind of wished I’d saved for the day _after_ meeting the large and menacing man I’d once tried to wipe off the face of the earth, the man who could make Steve’s life a living hell, a man who could very likely be called into my hearing to testify against me. Yeah, note to self, pleasant meetings with guys who kind of worship you should be saved for _after_ frightening meetings with men of Fury’s caliber.

To make my life even more complicated, I’d been informed we would be driving to DC after we finished up at Ember’s with Fury. We were going to visit Peggy. After all, I’d been asking to do so and then backing down so often, I – have to admit I was afraid I might identify too much with Pegs now and it hurt, and frightened me. I also feel guilty that she’s on the losing end of the memory game and I’m gaining ground. That saddens me.

All I could think was ‘She’s always been so strong – what the hell will I do seeing her now? How will I manage to not lose my shit? How will I not insult her or hurt her feelings because I can’t handle the situation?’

I didn’t even have time to squeeze a proper visit with Dr. P. in before this was all put into play, thanks a lot Steven. Instead Dr. P. got a frantic phone call.

> “I don’t think I can do all of this – everything he wants me to do.”
> 
> “Why not? Is there some barrier holding you back?”
> 
> “Oh, you mean the fact that I tried to kill a man and now I’m supposed to sit with him over coffee? Or, I am supposed to meet my fiancé’s _other_ soulmate and not lose my shit over her condition? All in one day? That kind of barrier?”
> 
> “You’ve met Miss Carter before; surely you can do it again. As for her condition, don’t think about it in those terms. You worked with her, show her the respect you’d like to be shown. Follow Steve’s lead.
> 
> “James, approach Nick Fury in a similar manner you did with Tony Stark, be respectful, but not timid. Be apologetic but don’t go overboard. You can do both of these things.
> 
> “Use the ride between meeting Fury and DC to wind down. Encourage Steve to make a few stops along the way, remind him it’s not a marathon. Tell him why you need the time and suggest you visit the next day when everyone is fresh. James, use the road trip as a getaway, a small vacation. This could do you good; you’ve been in the city for a long time now.”
> 
> “You make a lot of sense.” I admitted. “I guess that’s why I’m paying you.”
> 
> “I look forward to the day I’m billing the US Government for our sessions, James.”
> 
> “You and me both, Doc. Especially since I still have a long way to go.”
> 
> “You’re doing much better than you give yourself credit for. You just need to slow down and think through the barriers. I want to talk about all of the new things you’ve encountered on our next visit.”
> 
> “I figured that would be the case. There are a few choice pieces you should enjoy and that’s just everything that’s happened before today.”

I did feel much better after the phone call, and was able to talk to Steve without feeling like I was complaining again. When I told him how I was feeling and suggested we draw things out just a little, he was quiet.

“What? Isn’t that acceptable? I mean, Dr. P. is right – even Peggy will be fresher in the morning.”

“It is, Buck,” he stalled, stuffing some shirts into his bag, “I’m sorry I was so aggressive about it. I recognize that it’s just me filling the space that planning your defense had taken up – that’s unfair to you. You’re both right, about Peggy and about taking a little extra time, I'm just sorry I didn't think about it.”

“I almost think you feel that by rushing everything you can rush the outcome and believe me, I wish it was over too. But we can’t just make it so by wishing and shoving things along. Thank you for hearing me on this. I’m sorry I didn’t just come to you.”

“Yeah, you’re still working on that “fix it myself” thing.” He tugged me close, “we’re both still working on stuff.”

“For a long time to come, you sure you want to take that on?”

“I already did.” He kissed me “Come on, let’s roll.”

“Yeah, roll. Cinnamon with lots of gooey icing, and waffles with whipped cream and – you owe me big time for this Steve.” I followed him to the door.

“I think you’ll thank me when all is said and done. We need people like Fury on our side.”

“Will he be, though?” I kept up with him on the staircase as he jogged down – in a rush as usual.

“I’m confident he’s intelligent enough to see what you’ve been through.” Steve stopped on the landing, “You didn’t worry this much about meeting Tony. It’s ok sweetheart.”

“Aside from a one less good word at my hearing, what terrible things could happen if Fury decides to oppose us? Just lobbying to have me arrested, I hope. Would he go as far as demanding execution?” I tightened my fingers on the railing – not ready to step off the final landing.

“You’re getting carried away again. It never fails. Every time we talk about this you bring up execution, have you talked with Dr. P. about this fear? Bucky,” He placed his and on my arm and slid it slowly down to gently cover my hand on the rail. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Yeah? How? By stepping in front of the firing squad? That will just get us both dead.”

“Stop. Just stop with the morbid execution talk.” Steve put his free hand on my cheek, his glare softening, “We’re having sweets and coffee, and telling Fury what a good person you’ve been. Stop fixating on dying. Let’s go so we’re there before he is.”

He’s right, of course. Somehow, all the death and dying has made its way into the back of my head and all I expect to come out of this is a guilty verdict and execution. I’ve had to stop myself from looking that up on the internet. I’ve made terrible jokes one too many times and he’s getting tired. One more thing for Dr. P. I guess.

“Yeah, You’re right.” I agreed, following him down and out to the garage.

“You know I am. You got all anxious and defeatist before meeting the team too, but how did that turn out? Try to be positive, for me?” He swung a leg over the bike and waited for me to follow.

“Hey, that’s my line.” I smiled – encouraging a smile from him in return before situating myself behind him.

“Well remember it then.” He growled as he started the bike.

*  *  *

Walking into Ember’s shop was a balm for the soul as it always was. Things had been rearranged since I’d been in last, disorientingly different, but comfortable all the same. “You’ve changed – everything!” I accused as she wrapped her arms around my waist and I had no choice but to hold onto her too.

“You hate it.” she pouted.

“Nope, it’s weird and I’ll have to get used to it, but I like it. The place is still cozy.” I kissed the top of her head. “Is this why you haven’t been around?”

“Yes. I have been keeping busy here while Sam goes off and does hero-work and avenger stuff too. And who is stopping _you_ from coming by to see _me_?”

I pointed at Steve. “He made me meet the avengers. I might have had a minor meltdown.”

“I heard about your meeting but not your meltdown.” Ember tightened her arms around my waist, “must not have been all that dramatic.”

“Felt pretty damn dramatic to me, I guess it didn’t reach as far as Sam, or he’s waiting for me to say something. Some memory crept up on me and set me off.”

“I hear today’s a pretty big one, you let me know if you need an escape route. I’ve got you covered sweetheart.” She was teasing but somehow I sensed she might actually come through.

“Just keep the sweets coming, they’ll have to roll me out of here if they want to take me down.” I winked at her.

“Seriously, Bucky, you’re not in any danger from today are you?”

“He’s _not_.” Steve spoke up. “He’s not in _any_ danger, don’t go giving him anything to worry _more_ about.” He scolded.

“I’m not, Ember. It’s a parley.” I teased, “Apparently we’re meeting as _friends_.”

“Ok, well, I saved the best spot just for you. Look at this new piece!” she led us to a sofa in my favorite corner of the shop, looked like it could have come from my grandmother’s home, except it was bigger and looked more comfortable. “I had it redesigned from a relatively new-old piece and had them replicate the look I haven’t been able to locate.”

“It looks amazing. It looks like an enlarged original.” I told her, “I’ll let you know if it’s as comfortable as it looks.”

I sat down, finding that not only was I able to sit back without sinking and lean forward without straining, I could sit comfortably and not feel like my seat in the corner was coming from a cowering position.

“Perfection. Best seat in the house.” And it was, with my back to the wall and a window to the side of me. She came around the counter smiling.

“Great, and to get you started,” Ember served up waffles and fresh fruit with a flourish. “Extra whipped cream. But try the sauce – there’s real rum in that rum sauce, and it’s goo-ooood.”

“You are a blessing – you know the way to my comfort zones and my heart.”

She was priming me for the day with her skills and my weak spots, and I was grateful for her. Steve sat next to me, stealing tastes from my plate, “You think I did well? I couldn’t have picked a better spot, huh?” he boasted.

“If you want me to eat all day, then yes, you did well. I hope you’re ready to roll me out in a food coma.”

“You’re not going to need that. Hold on to that image if it gets you through but seriously this is going to be more awkward for me than it is you. Imagine he doesn’t know anything about you since DC at least. I’m going to beat you to the food coma.” He ducked his head onto my shoulder. “maybe we’ll just become stoic tourist attractions inside Ember’s shop.”

“Now who’s getting ridiculous.” I took his hand in mine and gave it a squeeze, “How early did we arrive so that we could beat him here?”

“Just twenty minutes. Trust me I was shooting for an hour.”

“I pissed around long enough that you didn’t have to sit here and stew for a whole hour. Way to go me!” I teased, placing my head on top of his. “we’re fucked up over this, just wait until we’re in front of however many people Shayla wants to parade me in front of.”

“That will be different. We’ll come at it differently and we’ll prevail, just like this is going to go just fine. Nat’s already given me a heads up on what Fury likes and Ember’s got things going.”

“He likes things? Doesn’t strike me as particularly human, really.”

“Bucky, that’s not fair. Of course he’s human. Maybe his emotions were lost when he lost his eye. Don’t be cruel.” He looked at me with mock anguish.

“Me? You’re the one that just said that.” I shoved at his shoulder, “you **are** ridiculous.”

“Did it work?” he smirked and lifted an eyebrow.

“It worked, and good thing too, because I think that’s them right outside.”

He scooted to a less slouched position on the sofa, looking out the front window. “Shit, good thing we stopped.” He blushed.

“Should we be making out instead?” I leaned toward him and brushed a kiss along his jaw, near his ear. “That would probably better explain your red cheeks than talking smack about Fury’s emotions.”

“mm. Yeah, good idea.” He leaned into my kiss, angling to face me, “yeah, kiss me Buck.”

I obeyed, tugging him closer and grasping his neck with one hand and his jaw with the other, our lips met and at the same time I saw them enter the shop. He could stammer through the whole meeting as far as I was concerned, and I kissed him accordingly, all lips and tongues and teeth. Until Natasha stood at my feet, toes touching the side of my boot, and cleared her throat. This was the first time since the hydra invasion that anyone so successfully snuck up on me. We both looked up; kiss swollen lips pouting as we looked to her for what she might say next. She simply stood there, amusement dancing behind her eyes even as she had her disappointed face in play, with her hands on her hips. God damn if I can’t figure out why I feel like I know her.

Steve rallied while I had a momentary lapse trying to fit memory puzzle pieces together, “Hey!” he rose, hugged her – needing all the moral support everyone could give him, no doubt. He moved down to the opposite end of the sofa and Natasha sat in the spot between us, very catlike in her approach and nothing like the ‘venomous black widow’. Steve shook Fury’s hand and by the time he was done, I’d gotten to my feet, taking in his dubious look as he held a large hand out to shake mine.

“It appears you have something to explain.” He said to Steve, not taking his eye off me. I was amused when Captain formal kept to etiquette and proceeded to introduce us.

“Director Fury, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, James Barnes.” His face gave away none of the nerves I could sense in the pull of certain muscles, the tone of his voice was as commanding as ever.

Fury tipped his head, “Nick.” He said shortly.

“James.” I returned. At some point recently, I’ve started offering certain people only James as an option, reserving Bucky for people close to me, the only person who uses James that I’ve offered to call me Bucky is Dr. P. I think he’s trying to stay outside the friend-zone so he continues to call me James.

Fury lowered himself into the chair across from the sofa, Steve and I dropped back into our perches on the sofa as Ember blew by, sweetly pouring coffee and delivering my typical sweet and iced house special. Between Steve’s explanations and me answering Fury’s questions – to the best of my knowledge for many of the answers – we had a nearly not nerve-wracking visit with a surprisingly fair man.

“You and I are even, Cap. Withholding information – you’ve just leveled the playing field.”

“I guess you’re right, and I’m sure you can understand my reasons.”

“Better than most. So what are you going to do next?”

“We have a meeting with our attorney as soon as she’s reviewed the case. Meanwhile she’s setting up a hearing in front of a panel of select individuals. I know the press will come down as soon as they hear about the committee of people she wants to assemble so I wanted to be sure everyone I work closely with is aware before that comes down.”

“What is her prediction for the outcome?”

“She is hopeful, can’t exactly predict but she wants to impress upon them the time that Bucky has already served in our own government’s custody as a prisoner.”

This is where I typically zone out, instead I watched Natasha while vaguely hearing the conversation. She, on the other hand, listened intently, but you’d only pick up on that if you were a keen observer. She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, feigning “girl” things like picking at her sweater and admiring her nails. This seemed incredibly out of character for her until I realized the act was for me. She could tell that I wasn’t paying attention. I mimicked her just a couple of times to see if she would notice. Eventually she just gave me the roman thumbs down signal and I had to stifle a laugh.

When I looked up at Steve I felt a little like a chastised child, but it was worth it to have something to keep my mind from wandering too far into that space he doesn’t want me to keep going.

The man across from us was as immobile as a mountain and very tough to read. He was gruff when he spoke, “Barnes,” (there goes that first name thing we’d established) “What do you have to say for yourself.”

“Well, sir, you’ve heard pretty much everything from Steve, all I can add is that I’m sorry.” How much can you pack into a small word that gets thrown around so casually? I sat forward and buried my face in my hands. It took several deep breaths to force the lump in my throat away. When I looked up I focused on a point just beyond the tip of Fury’s ear. “Please don’t hold this against Steve, he’s been a nervous wreck over keeping such a secret, but he’s done it for my safety and for my peace of mind.”

When Fury sat forward, placing his elbows on his knees, he didn’t look any smaller than that immovable mountain, “I understand the need for secrecy, and I am well aware of the reasons behind the things that you’ve done.” He lowered his voice, but that didn’t make him appear any less menacing, “I’m not the only one in this space you’ve tried to kill and if you think that I’m the only one who can’t put it behind them, then you clearly don’t know me. I’d like a chance to rectify that, James.”

Ok, that didn’t go anything like what I’d expected. “Sir?”

“Clean slate. That’s what we have here. If Natasha can put it behind her and sit with you, the least I can do is offer a clean slate.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nope, I still couldn’t call him ‘Nick’.

Steve moved to walk Fury to the door as they readied to leave. I touched Natasha’s knee before she moved to rise, “Natasha? Do we know each other outside the number of times I tried to kill you? I keep getting this very strange sense of déjà vu when I see you.”

She looked like I read into her innermost thoughts for just the briefest flicker, “I have gotten the same sense of déjà vu a couple of times since meeting you. It’s always possible given our dubious histories. I could look into it if you want?”

“I don’t know, our dubious histories considered, would that be smart? Don’t do anything that will get you harmed in any way.”

“I hope your hearing goes well, James. I’d better catch up with him – he won’t wait and I don’t want to take the train – especially since that’s _my car_.” She smirked.

“Thanks for coming along, you kept me entertained and I’m sure Steve appreciated the support as much as I do.” She nodded and waved over her shoulder as she left.

My delightful Ember filled the space left empty by everyone who’d gone outside. I looked away from the view on the street to her smiling eyes, she pressed into my hand a bag of goodies packaged for travel, “for the two of you, and for Peggy, I already checked and she should be able to have some.”

I kissed her soundly, “You, my dear are a godsend. If Sam ever fucks up, come live with us.”

“Don’t tempt me gorgeous. Now, don’t worry about this trip, relax and enjoy everything. Soak up some sun – it’s supposed to be nice all week – and spend as much time as you want with that hunk out there. Tell Peggy how much you love her and don’t fret about the memory loss sweetie. Just think of it as extra opportunities to give her love.”

“You wanna tell Stevie that? He suffers so much when she slips.” She slipped her arm around my waist and followed me outside.

“I sure will,” we watched as Steve hugged Natasha and thanked them again, “hey handsome.” Ember wrapped herself around Steve’s middle, “You give this one lots of quality time, kay?”

He nodded, blushing.

“Aaand – try not to agonize when Peggy has her episodes, just like I told this delinquent; think of it as extra opportunities to give her your love.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a true angel.” Steve lifted her from the ground with his hug.

“Drive safely! I want you to come back on your way home – I’ll buy breakfast (or lunch or dinner).”

“Ok darlin’ are you going to have breakfast available at any time of day? Pretty please?”

“Bucky, for you, the waffle iron is always ready to go.”

“Yup, tell Sam you’re leaving him. You need to be our girl now.” I kissed her again and pulled away with a wink, “One for the road.”

“He’s not going to go for it, nice try love. You two remember what I told you.”

Settling in on the back of the bike was a hell of a lot more stress-free than when we’d first set out for the morning. You could almost say I was feeling optimistic.

Once we were out of the city, he pulled off the road, I hadn’t noticed any problems, and the weather was fantastic, “Hey,” I touched his shoulder, “you ok?”

He slipped off the bike, “yeah, I’m fine, kinda great actually.” He smiled, “just thought maybe you’d want to drive for a while?”

I ran my fingers through his windblown hair, “Yes!” I kissed him lightly, “wasn’t sure it would happen this time around but yes… here you are breaking laws.” I winked.

“Just don’t get pulled over.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

I drove for a couple of hours only stopping for gas. When we stopped for lunch we decided to switch. At lunch we finally talked a little about how he felt about the meeting that morning.

“Fury says he’ll send word, a letter, or show up on your behalf.” He said as he took a bite of his burger.

“Why? As a favor to you? He can’t possibly speak up for me with as little as he spoke to me.” I broke a fry in half, more as a nervous move than anything, and shoved both halves in my mouth.

“He wants a favor in return.” Steve sat forward in his seat, holding his burger in both hands before he set it down. This meant the conversation was about to get deep.

“From you? Or from me?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

“Both. He wants me to talk to you about joining up. I didn’t tell him we’d already discussed it and I kind of don’t want his help if that’s how we get it. I promised you that wouldn’t be the reason for your freedom.”

“I’m going to flatly refuse any person on that board who wants that as an exchange. If we get any of the above from Fury and don’t use it, then I sign up anyway, he’s going to think it was reciprocated.”

“I know, which is why I told him as much. I hope you’re not angry that I made the call on the spot – but a promise is a promise. I told him your service and loyalties don’t come with a ransom.”

I processed what he’d said while I ate my lunch, “I knew there was a reason I loved you. Honestly though I’m not angry – you know how I feel and I trust you to have my back. Is that why you’ve been so pensive this whole time? I know talking isn’t exactly easy to do on the bike, but you’ve seemed to be sitting pretty rigid and you’ve been distant.”

“Probably, I really hoped we could get a little support without requiring something in return. I should have known better.” It’s funny to watch him eat emotionally; he punctuated his frustration with an aggressive bite before pulling back and just chewing.

“It’s ok. If I can’t impress them now, a rogue director who faked his death might not be the greatest endorsement for my best interests.”

“After everything you’ve been through, to come out of it with any sense of positivity or optimism, you’re truly inspiring Buck.”

“I’m not. You’re just easily swayed Stevie.”

“Oh shut up and eat.”

“I am starting to think that maybe I’ve been too defeatist about this whole thing. I have to be real and consider all possibilities, but there have been so many positives lately. People have been incredibly generous with their acceptance or forgiveness.”

“Have you started lining up your education options? When you do that I’ll know you’ve abandoned the dark thoughts.”

I flicked a fry at him, “I have looked at schools – that just means I’m curious.”

His smile could have lit the darkest side of the moon from where we sat, “no, it means you believe you have a future. So, what is your preference?”

“Jesus, Steve. I don’t know. I can’t even determine if I’d be accepted.”

“Pull out all the stops, imagine the hearing is done, we’re back from our celebratory trip, and you are accepted to any university you desire. Which is it?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you? Fine, NYU. You said dream big, alright?”

“You’ve looked at more than dozens, I presume, you’ve read every little thing you can on their teaching programs. I don’t think you’re simply dreaming big, I think you know what you want. I also think you can have it. We’ll figure out the how when the time comes.”

“And once I’m through with the curriculum, then what? No one will employ me, not with my history.”

“Who do you want to teach? I think you could really do well with troubled youth, you put up with me long enough.” He winked, “and you’ve overcome so much adversity, they could really use a mentor like you, Buck.”

“I’d had similar thoughts. Still, getting through the front door –”

“You’re gaining the respect and companionship of some pretty influential people, no I don’t mean Fury, but you and Stark hit it off quite well, Sam is 100% behind you and even I _might_ have some influence.” He offered with raised eyebrows. “Take advantage of what you can, Buck, you have too much to offer not to give it all you’ve got, including contacts.”

“You’re never going to back down from this are you?”

“When have you known me to back down from a fight?” he rose and took his time pulling on his jacket, “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yup, thanks for this – the trip – it’s good to get out and away.” I followed him outside, “It’s really good to be doing it almost freely, not looking over my shoulder.”

“Do you ever really stop?” he settled onto the bike, and I got set up behind him, “We haven’t heard more from hydra but I am pretty sure we haven’t seen the last of them.”

“I’m certain you’re right – and no, not ever, but this is the best close second.” I sat close and held on, just for the sake of holding him. I always live in terms of best close second but one day I hope he and I can be selfish enough, even if only for a weekend, to throw off all concern and simply live for ourselves.

*  *  *

We pulled into DC around sunset, the skyline was different – and I realized I hadn’t been here since shit went south. My grip on Steve tightened and he put one hand on mine for just a moment. He pulled off at the first exit and stopped at the side of the road. He turned to me, “Hey, you ok?”

“Just hit me. I haven’t been here – since –”

“I didn’t think about that, Buck. Shit.” He swiped his hand through his hair and looked into the distance, “We’re together, everything will be ok.” He decided.

“Yeah,” I sucked in and released a deep breath, “Yeah, it will.”

“Don’t just say it for me.” He smirked, “I’m here for you. Don’t forget it.”

“You ever get a feeling you’re going to be plagued with nightmares before you ever even hit the hay?”

“Once or twice. Not too often, I know the routine, I got your back babe.” He tapped my thigh, yeah; we’ll get through whatever the next couple of days would throw at us. “Maybe you’ll sleep like a baby.”

I didn’t bother hiding the derision from my laugh, sarcasm and sass are tools of his trade. “Maybe.”

With an extra tap and a soft swipe along my thigh, he looked at me again, “you ok? Hotel’s not too far away.”

“Yeah, let’s get settled.” I hugged his back, breathing in his intoxicating scent as we took off for our last few miles into town.

In town, the familiarity of the streets just fed my anxiety. I closed my eyes, feeling his breathing, and his heartbeat. I absorbed the momentum of the turns and tuned into the rumble beneath us and the solidity in front of me. Inside the parking garage, as he parked and shut off the bike, the echo filled my head with images I wanted to forget, and I sat unmoving as he leaned back. “Hey,” he whispered, “we got all night, there’s no rush.”

His words made me wonder how long we’d been sitting there. I pulled away and he was able to turn, I saw concern all over his face. I slowly released the hold I had around his waist, realizing how tightly I had been gripping. He dismounted and stood next to me, one hand on my back, he put the other to my cheek.

“You ok now?” he was speaking so softly, I wasn’t sure how he knew the echoes were killing me. I closed my eyes again as I drew in and released a few measured breaths.

“I guess?” I made myself dismount the bike and unstrap the bags. I followed him outside, instead of through the parking garage, to the entrance of our hotel. He waited for me to continue and I was waiting until we were in our room.

I watched from behind as he checked in at the front desk and I took the room key he handed me. I followed him to the elevator and we stood there quietly after he pushed the button, until he asked, nearly imperceptibly “stairs or elevator?”

“Shit.” I huffed, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

He took the bag and wrapped an arm around my waist, “Elevator’s quicker. Quieter.”

“Ok. Let’s give it a shot.”

“Remember to breathe. The whole time. Don’t hold your breath.”

I managed a smile, whatever it was, he was in my head, but I was grateful. “Gotcha.”

Inside our room, he set the bag in the closet and took my hand, pulling me into the room, “you wanna talk about the garage?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“You were yelling to make it stop. Seems there’s something to talk about.”

“I didn’t.” I denied what he said. “I closed my eyes in the city and before I opened them there was a lot of noise, echoing through my head – I opened them in the garage when we were parked.”

“You had an episode then.” He stopped in front of me, took both of my hands in his. “You seemed fine before we pulled into the garage, and then you were yelling. You called out to make it stop multiple times before I could get you to quiet down. It wasn’t until I lowered my voice completely that you were calm.

“There were images – I didn’t realize it got that bad – I thought I had it under control.”

“You ok? I had thought to go out to dinner, but if you’re even hungry, maybe we should do room service?”

“I’m not sure this was our best idea.” I pulled away from him to look out the window. I opened the pane and breathed in the air.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked from behind me, “We can turn around.”

“No – No, Steve that’s not…” I turned to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, I did **not** want to go home, this was our first time getting out of the city, going somewhere together, and I had every desire to see Peggy. I looked him in the eye, hating the sadness there, “I’m just overwhelmed. Let’s go out – let’s walk, stretch our legs.”

“If you’re sure. The city’s still the city – most everything is the same as before.”

“I know, and I can’t let what I’ve done create barriers to what I have become. I have to get out there and embrace _now_.”

“I’m here for you, you have Dr. P. on speed-dial. We got this.” He smiled warmly, lovingly.

“Yes, from a few months ago, breaking down alone on a city street to now, with a small community of people who are my very lifeline. I keep forgetting how much has changed.”

“Let’s go find out who has a table for two at the last minute on a Friday night. You feel adventurous?”

“No. Let’s do it anyway. Do I look like I spent the whole day on a motorcycle? Should I change?”

He looked me over, straightened my collar, and ran his hands down my sides to settle on my hips, “you look fantastic.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Yup.” He turned, looked at the mirror briefly and held a hand out to me, “Let’s go find something to eat, it’s been hours.”

Stepping out onto the street wasn’t quite as overwhelming as I’d expected, being able to hold his hand and just be in the spot, in the moment helped. We walked until the aroma of a busy little Italian place drew us in. We were able to get a table with a little name drop – and nobody ever thought Steve Rogers would do such a thing. I think it stemmed from my meltdown. Just goes to show the lengths he’ll go to, to make me happy.

Throughout the meal I could feel the tension drain and he seemed to be able to as well. We split dessert and he was noticed by the server as she set it in front of him – I just hoped that I blended well enough with the background, the last thing I needed was that on top of everything else. Steve was gracious, listening to her hero-worship with a familiar-yet-uncomfortable smile and thanked the girl for her support. She never turned my direction and I was grateful.

“That was cute.” I winked as he slid the plate to the center of the table.

“You think so? I can always let her know who I’m keeping company with.” He offered, and looked all too ready to make good on his threat.

“No, no, but it was still cute. You’re so self-effacing it’s like you’re two different people. “Steve-fight me-Rogers” and “Steve-Oh, Shucks-Rogers” I love it. I love you.” I smirked at him from behind my bite of chocolate fudge cake.

“I love you too, even when you are merciless.”

“Especially then.” I set my fork down, full and feeling done with the restaurant. I tried to remain still, my urge to scramble out of there was on a low burn.

“Hey, you wanna head outside while I settle the check?” Was it my nervous knee bouncing, did I have “get me out” painted across my forehead? Or was he actually in tune with me so deeply?

“Yeah, thanks doll.” I said automatically as I slipped my jacket off the back of the chair and hightailed out of there, hopefully not making much of a scene in the process. He joined me minutes later. “I’m sorry. I just had enough – I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

“I’d say after today, all that pent-up energy is self-explanatory. You don’t owe me any explanations or apologies.”

“Can we walk awhile? I think I’m improving, maybe not ready for any nightclubs tonight but just being out in the air and experiencing the atmosphere of the neighborhood?” It was bustling and active and I felt it could be good if we stuck to the outdoors.

“Yes, that’s perfect.” He smiled, eager to embrace anything I could handle.

We wandered, clinging to the outer reaches of any actual activity. We’d been walking for some time and he’d noticed me being drawn to the edges of the activity, after passing one similar establishment, he decided to try the next. His face was cautious as he led me into an outdoor bar – actually entering the establishment and the mix of people. I stayed close as he found a semi-open spot. “You tell me when you’ve had enough.” He brushed against my cheek.

“You’re just trying to keep me awake all night so that you don’t have to deal with my nightmares.” I accused him, teasing.

“That’s right. I don’t want to have to comfort you, don’t be a jerk, I thought you were doing the avoidance.”

“Maybe I am.” I admitted, “If you’re tired we can head back.”

“Nope, I’m good, I was wondering if I could coax you onto the dancefloor before too long.” He tugged me close, “If it’s not too crowded, of course.”

“You’d probably be better off if there was a bunch of people – trust me. The more people, the less likely you’ll be noticed, and outed.”

“The only reason I’m even considering avoiding that particular issue is the shit storm it will bring down on you if it happens before you’re in the clear.”

“Well, let’s play fast and loose.” I tugged him toward the dancefloor, “Show me what you’ve got, grandpa.”

“You’re older than me, fogy.” He laughed behind me.

“You can do this,” I told him when he stopped short, “just like at home, show me your moves.”

He leaned close, “I didn’t know I had any.”

“Oh baby, you have moves. Remember when you proposed, c’mon, dance with me.”

Somehow, the public display was something he needed, something we finally fucking deserved. All it took was a couple of dances and we were both good, and both ready to head for the hotel.

I’d like to say the evening ended with hot sex, but what happened was that both of us collapsed onto the bed, wrapped in each other, and slept uninterrupted until his wakeup call. That’s also a pretty good outcome, and more realistic, I suppose, after the day full of stress.

Standing in Peggy’s room, I fidgeted waiting for Steve to relate to her what had been happening. He was so beautiful, as he gently relayed the darker part of the story before telling her we’d found each other. I stepped out of the shadows and she looked me over, her features softening, “James.” She called softly, holding out a delicate hand. “don’t you hide from me.”

“I’m sorry Peggy, gathering my courage, I guess.” I took her hand, cool and soft, in mine. “I’ve been a terrible disappointment, I’m afraid.”

“Nonsense. Have you been being good to him?” she looked from me to Steve, seeking a promise.

“As much as I can. He’s trouble you know.” I winked, ignoring the tear that escaped with the movement. “He’s been amazing to me.”

“You deserve it, we all failed you, James. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare. Nobody failed me, least of all you.”

Steve sat close to her, serving the baked goodness Ember sent along while he related our discovery of each other and more embarrassingly my insistence that we bring her home with us, no matter the outcome. I’m still upset that Steve can’t be more involved with her care and their relationship is reduced to 20 minute visits when he can get away. She laughed breathily at the story, reprimanding me.

“Never much for rules, Pegs, you know that.” I defended myself. I rose, leaving half of my pastry. “I love you dear. I’m going to step outside so you two can have some privacy. I’ll pop back in before we go.”

“See that you do.” She ordered.

Maybe I was being a coward, ducking out before her good moment faded. Maybe I just wanted to give him a few extra moments with her before she tired, and maybe it was all of the above, but I still feel fine with my choice. I leaned on the wall outside the room, thinking about it all when I saw the nursing staff getting ready to come and cut the visit short, “let me tell him? I promised her I’d be back in before we leave anyway, please?”

She nodded and warned me, “Five minutes.”

“Thank you.” When I stepped in, they were giggling at something, “Talking about me behind my back, unfair Peggy, unfair.”

Steve’s face was a mix of smiles and sadness as he looked at me. I nodded at the question in his eyes.

“James, that’s hot what happened, and you know it.” she snapped comically.

“You’re right, Pegs, you were probably laughing at _him_. I know I do, all of the time. Speaking of time, it looks like we have to go.” I stepped up to her and kissed her cheek, “I’m going to miss you, and we’ll try to get back soon.”

Steve kissed her and said his farewells. She waved us off with threats if we didn’t keep our promises.

“You ok?” I asked as he pulled the door behind him.

“As ok as ever after a visit, she was having a good morning.” He smiled sentimentally. “She’s happy for us; she said she thought all along we were a force to be reckoned with. She would have been proud to be part of our family.”

“She said that? Progressive Peggy, much more than I ever knew.” I was stunned and saddened by the things that could have been.

“It would have been impossible, but it could have been beautiful.” He smiled wistfully.

“We were all too hard-headed to recognize it then. Too focused.” I offered, no sense mourning something that we, none of us, were ready to acknowledge.

“True. Time has been a curse and a gift.”

“Today was a gift, Steve, thank you.” I was so glad to have visited with Peggy, happy that she was so open to our relationship that Steve could be relieved, and I was thrilled to have her forgiveness.


	25. Whatever You Want It to Be

We’d been back in Brooklyn for exactly 6 hours. We’d gotten home late and crashed almost as soon as we were in the door. Six hours later and Steve’s phone had to ring. It woke me but not him, go figure. I looked at him, I nudged him, but he didn’t move. With a scowl he’d never see I reached over him to try to catch it before it actually woke him.

What the hell? If he was able to sleep, I wasn’t going to take that from him. I juggled the thing, fumbling it twice before snagging it by the charging cable and dangled it over him to finally grab it as it went crashing toward his face. I finally had it in my hands in time to see that it was Shayla calling. I cursed when the call ended, but it started up again and I answered, quickly and semi-politely. As in, I didn’t curse at her or groan into the phone.

“Hello”

“Steve? This isn’t – Did I dial the wrong number?”

“No, sorry, this is James – Steve’s” I looked over at him again, he was **_so_** asleep… “he’s still sleeping.”

“Oh, I’m sorry – well, James. This is our first contact. I’m Shayla.” I heard as I left the bed and the room.

“Hello, I’ve heard a lot about you – but not more than you’ve probably heard about me. Can I take a message for Steve?”

“Well, it cuts through the middleman this way - I’d rather talk to you if that’s ok? It’s regarding our opportunity to meet. I finally have the time necessary to dedicate fully to your case. I want to reexamine everything I have over the next few days and then I’d like a proper meeting. Would you be available Monday?”

“Monday?” I took a moment to process, this was much less than a week away, I took a deep breath before answering, “I’m free Monday. I’m not sure about Steve and Sam – I’d really like to have them there. Can I give them the message and we can let you know?”

“Of course. That would be just fine, James. Thank you for answering my call.”

“Sure thing, thank you for everything.” I stood in the doorway to the bedroom, the phone shaking in my hand. ‘Do I wake him or not? Am I going to freak out? No? Don’t wake him then, try to get back to sleep.’

I set the phone down on his side table and slipped into bed next to him. I honestly tried to sleep but the sound of my heart was hammering loudly enough that I almost scolded _it_ for trying to wake Steve. He slipped an arm over me and huddled closer to me as though he’d heard or felt it in his sleep yet still had to do something about it. I leaned against him and finally felt the thunderous pounding ease.

At some point I must have finally drifted off, even though I still felt groggy and tired enough when I roused and saw him sitting on his side of the bed, looking tousled and like he was still considering getting up.

“Shayla called this morning.” I said; sleep still sticking to my voice, “You were asleep so I answered.”

He turned to look at me, “I saw a missed call and that she hadn’t left a message. Were you able to handle it ok? I know it’s still a sticky spot.”

“I think I did alright. We might have a meeting Monday. Just depends on you and Sam. I was also able to walk across the room and set your phone down and eventually go to sleep. So yeah, I did alright.” I reached out and touched his back, “Are you ok?”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed as he turned to lie across me, resting on his elbow. “I’m good.”

“We’ve just been going and going recently.” I reached out and touched his face, “Let’s take the next few days to stop.”

“Stop? I don’t know if I know how.”

“It’s like what we’re doing right now but it covers more time. You know, leaving schedules behind and just being together.”

“I do like the sound of that.” He traced lines across my chest, “maybe I can finally get you to pose for me.”

“You haven’t asked. You know I’m always available; you’re the one who’s been too busy for that. Always going on about something about _real art_ or the like.”

“Not _real art_ , commercial art. You know? Art that I _won’t_ be keeping.”

“I’m almost proud that you sold that first painting. However, I’m sad and upset that I wasn’t the buyer. I know that would defeat the purpose but it was inspired by our date!”

“I have more date inspired art in mind – I’ll paint it just for you.” He kissed my fingers as they traced his jaw. “You still have that “Keep Brooklyn Offensive” t-shirt? I have an idea.”

“Of course I do, I should pull that out. You’re not planning on destroying it in the name of art are you?”

“No. I want to paint you, in it. I have an idea, just leave it to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the artist. As long as you don’t mess with my souvenir, I’ll leave it to you.” I cupped his cheek, “We’d better do this art thing in the next week, or so. You know, in case we’re too busy fleeing or being arrested.”

“You’re so positive all the time.” He groaned. “I’m not sure what to do with you.”

“Just keep putting up with me. I think you’re just about stubborn enough to do so.” I kissed his forehead, smiling as I pulled away to see his eyes flutter closed. “I think I’m doing ok, considering the copious amount of negative shit I’ve had to deal with. I’m just a little scared and skeptical. I’m starting to second-guess that last bit though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, someone I love hates it when I get too stuck in my own misery, so I’m trying new things – like therapy and talking about it. You know, modern methods.”

“True,” he smiled, “your attempts are obvious, and the positivity looks good on you, Buck. Almost like the guy I knew long ago.”

“Was I? How about you? I don’t know how you’ve been able to be so mellow and quiet. You’re always spoiling for trouble. I’ve almost gotten used to the domestic Steve Rogers, what’s life going to be like when you go back to being an Avenger full time?”

His face flickered with emotions, “I know you have misgivings about that, but with this –” he awkwardly gestured the mass of his body as if it would explain everything (which it really did), “with everything – I can’t always _just_ be an artist.”

“Oh, no, I get what you’re saying. Please don’t abandon art for duty or the other way around. I like the quiet moments, Steve, but even then you’ve had something to focus on. Right now you’re still vibrating with untapped energy.”

“No. I have no plans to abandon any of my passions for duty. It’s going to be interesting to go back to it. I’m grateful to the universes for allowing us the last two months. The unexpected peace does make me wonder what’s next.”

“That’s what makes me cringe.” I told him softly, “Also makes me wonder if I have any true sanity left if I’m still considering coming into the fight.”

“You’d be an added benefit to the team,” He sat up, crossing his legs, “but I don’t want you to do it because you think you have to.”

“Do you even hear yourself? You’ve got this enhanced body and you think you can’t just embrace your passions without doing something noble with yourself, but when it comes to me, you don’t want me to do exactly the same thing?”

“That’s not what I said at all, Bucky. You didn’t sign up for this. I did. I chose my fight and you didn’t get to. It’s important to me that you know that now _you_ get to do the choosing. If you want to join the fight, I want you there. If you want to embrace your mind and your talents and skills by teaching, I want you to do that. If you want to do it all and can juggle it, then by all means – do that, baby. I chose in 1943. Your time to choose has finally come.”

“That’s a big responsibility.” I sat up away from the pillows, “I hope I can do the right thing.”

“Anything you choose that is for you,” he took my hand, his features soft and tender, “for your best interests, is the right thing.”

“I can almost believe it, when you talk so sweetly.”

“Believe it. You planning on lying about in bed all day?” he asked, climbing off the bed.

“I think I might.” I stretched and leaned back against the pillows again. “You have an alternative plan? Better be good, cos this has been incredibly long overdue.”

“That’s true, we haven’t done anything like this since rainy, sick days. You always made them worth suffering through.” Steve chuckled as he wandered out into the living room and rustled round before coming back in with music playing in the background and art supplies in hand. “What are we calling this then?”

“It has no name. It’s just you and me – and a long time coming.” I laughed at him when he pounced back onto the bed. “What are you up to?”

He’d started sketching, a smirk softening into a smile, “working out some things. You wanna give it a go?” He handed me a sketchbook and spread the pencils out between us.

For a while I watched him scratching and scribbling away, changing colors every so often before I picked up my first pencil. “You know you’re better at this than I am.”

“It’s not a competition. Just play, Buck. Draw whatever comes to mind. Make it light and happy.” He grinned. “Light. Bucky, and happy.

My drawing skills have been untapped for decades and it took a bit of fiddling around to finally find a direction. Add to that I had to keep reminding myself not to compare it to anything I’ve ever seen him create before I could get anywhere.

He’d look up at me occasionally, with a smirk or a smile and duck his head back down to his project. I don’t know how often he’d actually look up because I caught him almost every time I looked up. I figured out he was sketching me but all I was doing was just looking at him, because watching him get lost in his art is one of my favorite things.

I realized when the pencil jerked across the paper that I, too, was getting lost. I got lost in watching him. “Fuck.”

“What?” Steve looked up at me, curious and amused.

“I just fucked it up.” I looked at him and showed him the garish mark as he laughed.

“How did you do that?” he managed to say through chuckles.

“I was distracted and the pencil jerked.” I frowned, partially disappointed but still amused. “Distracted by you.”

“I can help you fix it. Distracted by me how?”

“You're so beautiful when you’re so deep in your art. I was watching you too closely and not what I was doing.” I handed it over and his blush bloomed as he started erasing the bright line, softening it and removing it entirely in some places.

“You might want to fill in these areas I didn't want to erase too much of your detail.” He explained handing it back to me.

“You act like this is going to be a gallery piece and not just a refrigerator decoration.”

“It can be whatever you want it to be – if you don’t doom it before it’s begun.”

“Sounds like what we were talking about earlier, are you on a mission here?” I asked lightly.

“Yes. That should be no surprise; the mission is getting you go a good and rewarding place. It’s good, Buck, or I’d have recommended starting it over. It’s salvageable and has potential.”

“Like me.” I grinned, taking joy in his delighted smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems Steve got ahead of Bucky - this is before the meeting with Shayla (as covered in Steve's letters) but it was good to share a nice day with the two.


	26. Who Doesn't Like a Challenge?

What a fucking day this has been. I’d like to think I handled myself quite well.

I had created a challenge for myself. Dr. P. has had me pushing outside of my comfort zone more and more but this? I’m going to have to say something to him about his methods; I think he believes I can do more than maybe I’m ready for. He’s encouraged me to list the things I have avoided and start planning how to conquer them.

With his challenge in mind, I decided to not only take the train for the first time, but to do so on the day of our meeting with Shayla. Maybe this one isn’t on Dr. P. but on me. I could have done them on different days. I just figured at least I’d have both Steve and Sam with me so if I lost it; I wouldn’t be suffering it alone.

I walked onto the train ahead of them both, reassuring them I was sure this was the right day and time for this, reassuring myself as well. I tucked away the knowledge that I could get off at any number of stops, as I’d done my research; I knew the route and the schedule. I was even privately grateful when Steve reassured me of this with his blatant attempt at avoiding “poking the bear” by saying “Just give me a little warning if you decide to take a different stop. I can’t always keep up with you.”

I knew the train was more crowded at times and had made all attempts to avoid those times. We were still pretty lucky to have had a relatively quiet car. Sam sat quietly at my side and Steve sat across from me, trying to distract me by asking about my coffee. I would have to thank Ember again for the coffee diversion. It gave me something in my hands so that I wasn’t a bundle of clenched muscles and it gave us something other than the train to talk about.

Even coffee talk can only go so far so the next best distraction was actually thinking about where I was going. The pastry I’d shoved into my face between Ember’s and the station sat heavily in my stomach as I thought about what I was heading into. A month or so ago I wasn’t even able to consider this meeting at all, having panic attacks when we talked about _him_ going to meetings. Now here I was, semi-smiling with a cup of coffee in hand. Still, after I asked if they thought the meeting would go well, I could only partially hear Steve’s reply, like it came from under water.

We finally neared our stop and I made sure I wasn’t sitting – moving to the door so I could exit as soon as possible. The train was fine, it was all in one piece, and no one was shooting at us. It was small, closed in and smelled. It wasn’t outside. I didn’t want to be coddled or asked again if I was ok, so I kept my cool as I made my way out, tossed what was left of my coffee into the nearest trash can and strode past the crowd and up the steps. That’s where I finally, with my hands shoved deep into my pockets, allowed myself a deep breath. I made it. One more thing crossed off my list. I could (if I desired) ride the train.

The next thing that needed to be crossed off would be almost as emotional or maybe more so. I wasn’t sure at the time. Walking into the law offices, I was still not sure, would this be less or more of a challenge than the train?

The office was all glass and metal with leather touches and art on the walls that contrasted with the cold, hard furnishings, black and white prints of horses and mountains mixed with colored photos of tree-lined canyons. I thought we’d be waiting long enough to be made uncomfortable but was shocked when a small, spirited woman surged out of the inner office with a very charged energy and ushered us into her office.

She led us to a circle of chairs around a coffee table, I expected introductions or something when she took my hand and shook it, announcing that food was on its way before greeting me, “James, I’m pleased to finally meet you.” And she appeared exactly that with her freckled smile.

She laughed with Sam and Steve and I watched, between glances at the papers on the table and the photos on the wall. I only just heard that they were talking about Ember when Steve tried to pull me into the conversation. I gathered the gist and with a laugh, gave my honest reply, “I keep telling her to leave him and come home with me. I did see her first.”

I was directed to a chair next to Shayla, and as I consciously fought the urge to turn toward the door, I sat stiffly on the edge of the seat. I knew I should be sitting back, but this was the best I could offer. I fidgeted enough that it must have been bothering Steve. He took my hand before I could jack up the seam of my jeans too much. I tried to reassure him but when I looked at him, it was his reassurance that settled me. I sat back just a little, no longer poised to bolt from my seat.

Inch by inch, the cushioned seat claimed me as I continued to feel that much less intimidated. That’s not to say that there was no burning in my chest and my gut when things that I’d only ever told Steve or Dr. P. came out. My limbs felt foreign and I had to push past sick feelings as fleeting memories abandoned me and others surfaced. A hazard of this recovery thing, also a good reason to keep track of everything, and so she has all of my writings. Well, copies of them anyway.

Overall, the meeting wasn’t terrible, I survived and was able to walk out on my own, I’ll call that a win. I wasn’t able to face being cooped up in a taxi or train though, and wished I’d been a little less brave at the start of the day – insisting instead on taking the bike, because now I had to walk home.

Give me someone to fight, I’m not afraid. This, facing all that I have done, looking at it on paper, and asking someone to forgive me for it? That’s crushing fear right there. That list of things Steve gave Shayla, I’m going to have to actually look at it before this hearing comes up, I’m actually going to have to read about things I’ve done that I haven’t remembered yet and I still have to atone for them somehow.

He looks at me every day, knowing more of what I did than I do. He wakes up every morning with the knowledge and he loves me anyway. Sometimes I think he needs Dr. P more than I do, and other times I wonder if Dr. P. can help me be the man Steven Grant Rogers deserves.

I convinced Steve to walk with me, but Sam was having no part of it, not that I blame him for taking a cab. I’m always grateful for time alone with Steve.

His question, “you ok Babe?” was hesitant.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I watched people doing their daily hustle, looking down and pushing past anyone not up to speed, including us. “People sure are in a big hurry.” Rushing was the last thing on my list; it only steals time from you. I don’t need any more taken from me.

“Yup, seems the only way to get anywhere is fast.” He said, as he analyzed my “I’m Fine”

I wanted _that_ to stop, he didn’t need to worry about everything crowding my thoughts right now, he’d just get protective or defensive. I jostled his shoulder with mine, “Look who’s talkin’, you love fast.”

He asked again how today affected me, and all I could offer him were blanket statements because just then, it wasn’t something I wanted to get into. Wednesday loomed over me and gave me a sick feeling. I needed to look at his research between now and then and I didn’t like the way it sat in my heart.

We walked home, pointing out the sore thumbs that had been erected or sites that were still standing. We stopped for a cup of soup at a café that had been – surprise – a café back when we trolled the streets as kids. It was nice to have a sense of something pure, innocent, between the morning’s events and the things I was going to have to delve into.

When we finally got home, I hurried into the bedroom to change and when I came out in sweat pants and a t-shirt that was just this side of the rag pile he gave me a look. I ignored him and curled up in the corner of the sofa with the remote in hand.

He came over and tugged the remote from my hand before kneeling in front of me, “Buck, are you sure you’re ok?” He felt responsible for today, I know it. I gave him plenty of reasons to, assigning blame and making him work on the entire thing without being able to do it myself.

“I don’t even know what ok is, Steve. I just allowed myself to think about the fact that the thing that I _haven’t_ been facing these past months isn’t my future.”

He stopped, “You haven’t exactly been embracing it, but that’s understandable.”

“No, I haven’t been _allowing_ myself to _deserve_ a future.” I turned to face him, “What I haven’t been facing is my past. The entirety of it – the things you know that I don’t, and the fact that you know the horrors of what I’ve done. You know how horrible I’ve been and I don’t.”

“It’s true, I do have a list of things,” He stood up, paced away from me and back twice before standing in front of me, firmly planted with his hands on his hips, his lips pursed as he considered his answer. It amazes me that he’s still blissfully and completely unaware of his size and beauty, “but you’re the one with the memories and the emotions behind the things you do know, that’s a much heavier weight to bear.”

“In light of it all, you find me lovable. Either your moral compass is irreparably broken, or I might actually be redeemable.” I really didn’t say it to be contrary, it just finally hit me.

This might have been the very first moment I chose to expose my weakest spot. Of course the breakdowns were out of my hands, but here and now, this was me, staring at the man I’ve loved for my entire life. I wasn’t daring him to validate or contradict me; I was coming to realize that I honestly didn’t know the depth of my impact on the world.

“Would you sit with me while I look through all of the stuff I haven’t been able to face? I need to know what they have on me. I just don’t know if I can face it alone.”

“Bucky, yes. Of course – I told you a long time ago that when you were ready, I’d be right by your side.”

“Why?” I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, I don’t know what was happening, I felt everything spiraling, I was devolving and he saw it. “Why?”

“Why will I be there? Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes” he sat on the sofa, purposely in my personal space, he gripped my knees like I would escape if he lightened his touch. I focused on his hands as he continued, “we have been through thick and thin, sometimes pretty literally. You and me? We’ve been the one the other can count on – you for me much more often than I could for you. I have a chance to be the one now, to be there for you. Let me. Why? Because I’ve loved you since the day I knew what love was, since before I knew I could love someone so fiercely. Because if the tables were turned you’d be there for me."

I could feel how urgently he was trying to keep me grounded, I continued to focus on him, on his hands firmly gripping my knees, his soft seeking glances, the determined set of his jaw, “You _have_ been there for me, my world crashed on top of me when Ma died and you were there. I was constantly a mess, either sick or bruised, and you were there. There was a giant hole in my life, in my world and all of a sudden, out of a nightmare on a dark night when I needed it most you were there. It’s what we do. It’s who we are… I’m not Captain America and you’re **not** Hydra’s assassin. I’m just Steven Grant Rogers and you’re simply James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky to your friends.”

He scooted into the seat next to me and pulled me into his steel trap arms molding his body to me as I melted into his embrace. Even though I questioned if this was something I deserved, I gripped him as tightly as he did me.

Muffled in my neck I heard him continue his speech, “you have friends, Buck, modern-day friends who know your history and want you to succeed, who love you. Even Stark has taken to calling you and inviting you around. And you’re not irredeemable.”

I guess I was breathing, I must have been, but when I drew in the deep ragged breath as he pulled away, I felt like had just surfaced from the depths. “I don’t know what came over me.” I bit into my cheek hard enough to taste blood.

“You don’t have to explain. To quote Dr. P., “Feelings don’t ask if we’re ready for them”.” He said as he took my hand in his, “So just tell me when you want to start, you want to take the rest of today to deal with things and start early tomorrow?”

“With life? Or with the whole list of bad deeds? Because I feel like I’ve been sitting on things a little too long.”

“I’d tell you how funny you are if I didn’t know you were being serious. But to answer _my_ question??”

“I’m…” What was I – what did I want to do? The thoughts would be with me whether I was sitting around putting off the inevitable – _again –_ or taking steps to move forward. It would be best to start soon but he was giving me the rest of the day, and like Dr. P. had already said, rushing things when I can take them slowly isn’t taking care of myself. “I… Let’s do it tomorrow?”

“As you wish.” He smiled softly.


	27. The Diversion

Shayla called me that Thursday morning after our Wednesday meeting. “James, everything has finally and officially fallen into place. We will be meeting the panel in two weeks.”

 Two weeks, two meetings (in addition to the initial one) and a lot of drilling on certain questions, how I would handle them seemed crucial to the meeting, hearing, whatever this life altering thing was supposed to be called. Questions about my ability (or lack of) to move freely while with hydra. Questions about whether or not I was homicidal. Hey, I get it, they don’t want to be responsible for letting a deranged killer out into the public. Shayla wanted my answers to be real but she wanted me to be sensitive to the people asking them. She also pushed buttons with antagonistic questioning tactics, unsure whether the strategy would be utilized or not, she wanted me prepared, so that I didn’t freak out.

I used the rest of my days to work, putting all of my remaining time into fixing things for all of my current orders, and I did it in the company of Tony Stark. The first day I called him to ask a quick question and he speed-talked me into coming over to “see” the answer. At the end of that day, he told me “I expect to see you again tomorrow. You can use the same space you did today.”

In addition to the anxiety inducing meetings with Shayla and spending days with Tony “Manic Energy” Stark, my days ended with carry-in dinners, lazy nights on the sofa with Steve, and blissful full nights of sleep. That shit would tire anyone out. That is, up until the last day, my last free night.

I didn’t sleep at all the night before the hearing. I wound up calling Stark and asking him if I could crash whatever he was working on.

“Sure, come by – it’s loud and I can’t guarantee you’ll have any fun, but the more the merrier.” He said over the loud noise he warned me about in the background. Steve was crashed – he’s been sleeping deep and long the past two nights and I’m not going to be the one to break this streak so I left him a note and sent him a text so that he’d know I was fine.

I packed up my suit and brought my latest project along with me. The walk in the dark to the train was filled with New York sounds as I considered whether or not I would actually get on the train or hail a cab before I got there. The cab won out due to my current anxiety level, I’d only done the train that one day going to Shayla’s for the first time, and that was with Steve _and_ Sam. I gave the driver my destination – minus a block – so I could avoid his questions and walk the last bit in peace before heading into the workshop of a mad genius.

I sent Stark a quick text to let him know I was near and was greeted by JARVIS at the door. “Welcome Bucky, Mr. Stark is in the middle of a project so just let yourself in.”

Our late night habits were comforting. “JARVIS.” I returned the greeting. “Has he slept recently?”

“Bucky, in the last 24 hours there have been several sporadic moments where he will doze but not more than an hour at a time. I’m afraid he never reached REM sleep. Have you slept recently?”

That JARVIS asked about me, and sounded concerned, shocked me, “I… well I did sleep through last night but tonight – well tomorrow’s the big day. I’m beyond sleep.”

I stepped into the loudly active workshop, to see Tony under a welding helmet. I reached for the other he’d left lying near the door and put it on, approaching from a wide arc so that he’d see me coming and not get spooked. He held up a hand then returned to his project. I watched as the metals became one under the torch and welding rod.

He finished and flipped the helmet up, looking dirt-smudged and frazzled. I flipped my own to hear him say “you look like hell.”

“Nice to see you too. I didn’t know I was supposed to come pre-greased. Is that the required dress code these days?”

“Can’t sleep huh? Welcome to the party, where’s Capcicle?”

“Sleeping the slumber of the blessed. Finally. His two week run of insomnia seems to be over and has taken up residence in my brain.”

“Or it’s nerves about tomorrow. You sure you don’t want the gang to come along? We can terrorize them into a pretty decent settlement.”

“NO. No terrorizing. I’ve signed up for this torture alone. Well, with a small support system. I’ll just appreciate knowing you have my back. If I feel like we’re sinking, I’ll give them your number.”

“Screw that, just call me, I’ll be there in a flash. Especially if this works the way I expect it to.” He said petting the project he was currently working on, “Which it will.”

“If shit goes south, I don’t even know what I’ll do.”

“Call me.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the worst idea, you have enough responsibilities. One of the reasons Steve kept everyone out of this is because this is a lot to take on.”

“What? You? Give me a break. I’ve handled worse.”

“Tony, you can’t even handle you. You sleep less than me or Steve on our worst days.”

“Break time’s over, back to work.” He evaded, pulling out his latest gadget and handing it to me, “See if you can get this to work. I don’t have time, gotta keep working on this.” He slapped the metal that was slowly taking shape.

“You got it, Mr. Stark.” I rolled my stool away from where he was working to a semi-clear spot on a different workstation. He kept coming up with tech that I needed to “figure out” and I really was enjoying the challenge. I worked until the kink in my neck felt like it went down to my ass and JARVIS alerted me to Steve’s arrival.

“Bucky, Steve’s on his way up. He has asked that I remind you that you have approximately 30 minutes to get ready for your meeting.”

“Thank you Jarvis. Tony, Shower.”

He didn’t look up from grinding the suit that was nearly recognizable by now, just nodded, and pointed toward the door.

“This thing – should work now.” I said, sliding it back where he’d retrieved it from, “Thanks.”

Tony nodded again and that was the best I was going to get. It was also all that was needed.

I met Steve at the door, “Hey. You look amazing.”

“You look like a mess.” He returned.

“Yeah, just hitting the shower, suit’s hanging in wait. I just couldn’t sleep, baby.”

“I know. You ok?”

“I’ll be ok when this is over. Damn you look good.” I headed for the shower to the music of his laughter. ‘I hope I never have to miss that’ I kept thinking as the water washed my layers of frustration and sweat away. “Stevie!” I called.

“Yeah Buck?”

“Hey, you said I looked a mess – tell me I didn’t get some of Stark’s god-knows-where-it-comes-from grease on me?”

He peeked into the room, “You’re fine, I just meant you were a mess, not a grease monkey like him.”

“Ok, just a few minutes then, I’m glad I went to the barber yesterday.” I called from the shower, “I hope one day of growth doesn’t sway my rating.”

“You’ll be fine. How did your diversion work? Get anything accomplished?”

“I think I’m learning new tech under the guise of “see if you can get this to work” as he tosses something he knows how to fix at me. So yeah, I might have learned something last night. JARVIS is a great help when I can’t find what the hell I’m supposed to be looking for. I really think we need our own JARVIS Steve.” I responded as I turned the water off and stepped out, toweling off.

“You would.” Steve shuddered, “no offense JARVIS.”

“None taken.” The AI assumed sarcasm in response.

“He’s just old fashioned JARVIS.”

“That has been noted, several times.”

“And by several different individuals.” Steve finished. “So, how did you get here?”

“I considered the train, then reconsidered, taking a cab was much more to my liking. I want my own wheels, Stevie, and a license.”

“We’ll get those as soon as we can.” His stupid smile made me feel all soft and hopeful, I had to turn away from it before getting my hopes too far up, so I kept myself busy putting the suit on.

“You look dashing.” He said as I turned back around.

“Oh cut it out. I’m nothing but a showpiece to be ogled and judged. I don’t need you doing it too.”

“Big difference, sweetheart, you _like it_ when I ogle you.”

“Not today.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, “Ok, I’ll stop. It’s going to be hard but I’ll manage. You should have gotten a good night’s sleep, you wouldn’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy I’m frightened, they’re very different.” I ducked my head into his neck, inhaling his scent and hoping to absorb some of his energy.

“Yeah, I know. Today’s going to be a big deal; do you think you can eat something? I brought muffins and boiled eggs because Ember insisted.”

“Mmm. Ember’s muffins? Maybe a bite or two.” I knew I was sulking and I really wasn’t trying to be childish, I honestly wasn’t sure if I could manage more than two bites, but to refuse to at least give it a good try when it came to Ember’s baked goods was sacrilege.

“Yup, your favorite kind too.”

“She’s still coming? I mean I need her there Steve.”

“Of course, I stopped on my way, got a brown bag thrust in my hands as she jogged out saying “gotta go get ready – meet you there – make sure he eats some of this, I didn’t get up at the ass-crack of dawn making them for nothing.” So yeah, she’ll be there and _you_ can tell her if you don’t eat them.”

“Or at least try.” I smiled, thinking about how frazzled my never-perturbed Ember had to be to send along a message like that.

“Yes, or at least try. The other one’s mine. Let’s eat on the go.” He took my hand, “JARVIS we’ll be back to get the rest of Bucky’s stuff.”

“At least he will – depending.” I couldn’t stop the words from coming out, even with the look I got. “I don’t suppose it’s the best laid plan to ask an AI to wish me luck?”

“Bucky, luck is what you make it. You do have a quality team and a solid defense. Your stuff will be safe for your return.”

“I should have figured. Thanks JARVIS.”

I got the egg and about a quarter of the muffin down between the door of Stark’s place and the bike and snuck a couple of bites again at the parking garage near the office building we were meeting in. I rolled the rest up in the bag and tucked it in the saddlebag on the bike.

I sucked in a couple of last “freedom breaths” and looked at Steve. He gave me a look that showed he was just a bit more nervous than he’d been letting on before he regained control of that “Captain America” look.

“Well, now or never, right?” I said over the churning of my stomach.

“Yup. Now or never.” He took my hand and held tightly as we started for the entrance.


	28. Pleading My Case

We met the group there at the glass doors, Shayla stood talking with Sam and Ember, and Dr. P. was walking up from the other direction. He threw out a wave and a smile as he saw us and I breathed deeply again. ‘Remember to breathe.’

On the plus side, this was Shayla’s choice of places to meet so we went straight in, we didn’t have to wait to be called in. We _did_ have to wait for the committee of people she had assembled. We waited a good, terrible, 15 minutes before the four people who would decide my fate came through the door and sat across from us at the table.

The first words spoken made my gut clench.

“If we could please clear the room of anybody not central to the case before us.” The officer at the center of the conference table started.

As uncomfortable as it made me, somehow I had expected this so I stood up, surprising probably everyone there, and definitely myself, “Sirs, Ma’am, if I could please have a moment of your time before we get started. I know this is unusual, please allow me to thank you for your generosity in agreeing to this meeting. I recognize that I’m already being granted a huge kindness. That said; I’d like to beg one more leniency. I understand that each of you has first-hand and/or second-hand experience with PTSD.”

They each patiently waited for me to continue, “Four people in this room are familiar with my PTSD and its triggers. Three of them, Officers Rogers and Wilson and Dr. Petrakis are needed to continue presenting my case in the event that I need to leave the room. Ms. Sulin is the only one not central to my case, but she would be able to escort me from chambers if I needed to… catch some air. I ask that you allow her to remain within the room, even if she is unable to sit at the table with us.”

They turned to one another, seemed to be deliberating and then the female officer spoke, “Sergeant, your request was beautifully put. Thank you for your candor. We accept Ms. Sulin as your aide; she is welcome to sit at the table if that would make you comfortable.”

I looked at Ember; she was fiddling with her rings. We had worked out a signal; she had a ring on each finger, one for each officer on the opposite side of the table. She was going to try reading their emotions and promised to report back to me if they were feeling favorable. If they were neutral, her rings would be turned with the stone inside her hand, if they were feeling positive or favorable towards our case the stone would be turned out. If – and this I hoped wouldn’t happen – things started to turn sour, the rings would come off; one for each officer. If her fingers were bare, I’d be leaving the room, making a break for it.

Currently stones out. I sighed in relief as I thanked them for their continued generosity and sat back in my seat. We were only just beginning, I had to remind myself.

I had expected a more formal setting than we were in, the room was bright from the wall of windows, the furniture was very modern but not uncomfortable and there were four people on each side of the table (not counting Ember who had taken her seat at the  far end). There were two JAG officers, a congressman and a D.A., I’m not sure whether to thank Shayla for her choices or not because this was pretty intimidating.

I remembered what Dr. P. had said, “It’s going to be nerve-wracking. Remember that you’re a human being with feelings and if you feel a certain way let it show. You’re going to be looked at for your reactions. Keep any anger in check but don’t mask your feelings, even the ones that feel weak.”

I was fine with that because there’s no way I couldn’t feel intimidated without really sinking into myself – so I hoped they enjoyed my cowed look.

I looked at each of them as they spoke, explaining that we were in agreement that this gathering was to determine whether or not I would be going to trial.

Last I knew, Shayla hadn’t wanted to give them written material prior to our meeting. She wanted them to meet me and review the documents afterward. I was surprised to find out that she’d given them the information two days prior. A lump formed in my throat as I glanced at Ember. She had her hands in her lap, her face was neutral, but then she smiled encouragingly at me. Ok... I felt ok with that.

Each person facing me had different questions about different things within the book that they had in front of them. Some were pretty basic questions and all of them were expected.

“Sergeant, were you ever given the express option to leave or to refuse an order during your imprisonment?”

“Sir, I was not. When I questioned my handler the one time I can recall, I was held at gun point and struck, I was also restrained and had to go back into the chair.” I twisted my ring to ground myself, my voice had cracked, and I felt the burn of embarrassment as all eyes stayed on me, “I know that in the beginning I resisted, but I was beaten. I was beaten and broken but my skin and my bones healed and I was beaten again until I no longer resisted.”

The words fell from my lips as I focused on the ear of the female officer, her red hair just touching the tip of it, softly kissing the curve of the shell of it. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye just then and if I focused on a location beyond them I was afraid I might get lost in the blank space.

The officer pushed a box of tissues across and Steve reached for one and handed it to me. I didn’t realize I’d needed it. I took the offering, looking at him and seeing the small half-smile that means more than a world of laughs. The one that says, “we got this”.

The female officer was the next person to ask, “In the time since you’ve been free of hydra, have you killed anyone?”

“Yes ma’am.” This question was hashed and rehashed when I met with Shayla that Wednesday, they would ask this question and I would need an answer. An intelligent and truthful answer. I was primed to be ready for this one, but when it actually came up I had to take a long pause before I continued. When I continued the answer was a bit more rushed than I’d have liked it to be. A lot more rushed than rehearsed, “When I was first out of their control I found their hideouts and their safe houses and I burned them.” Steve’s hand tightening on my thigh helped me pace the rest of my reply, “There may have been hydra agents present at the time. More recently, our home was invaded by three agents in the dark of night and I was forced to fight each of them to keep both myself and my fiancé safe.”

“And your fiancé, was she –”

“He, ma’am.” I took Steve’s hand in mine. “He was sleeping but he woke in time to keep one of the agent’s bullets from entering my chest.”

How I lived during my “imprisonment” and how I lived afterward were questions that I answered with as much emotion as everything else. I couldn’t answer some of their questions but they seemed to accept that.

They asked questions of Sam and of Dr. P. They asked Steve why he’d harbored me as I was known to be a fugitive.

“Because it was the thing to do.” He answered solemnly. “Bucky has been my friend for as long as I can remember. He’s had my back in ways no one will ever understand, we came from a different world, one your grandparents have likely told you about. You don’t turn away your friends when they are in need. It was my judgment that Bucky should be able to remain free after serving 70 years as a prisoner, until he was able to emotionally and physically handle a trial if it will come to that. I understand that I took the law into my own hands. That’s my job, I live on the edge in a world where on occasion I’m required to be judge, jury, and executioner for you, for our government. This time _I chose_ to be lenient.”

They even asked Ember questions. I almost refused but she nodded, rings prettily shining with stones on all of her fingers. “Ms. Sulin, how is it you know Sergeant Barnes?”

“I know Bucky from my coffee shop. He came in early in the fall and would sit and read or write for hours while drinking coffee. He was quiet and seemed distracted or sad at first. The more he came in, the more I would try to talk to him. He didn’t ever appear unapproachable, just focused. One day he was between cups, between books and he talked back. His smile was the reward for my patience. At the time I was concerned for him, I assumed that he was homeless because he only ever bought the one cup, he stayed during the coldest hours, and he kept a pretty big bag with him all of the time.

“I never minded the thought though, I have several homeless customers, and I enjoy them all. Even before we spoke, he was always respectful and he was always smartly dressed. The day I talked to him, I noticed that he didn’t have his bag with him so I asked if he was ok. It seemed odd to me that he didn’t have the bag and I worried that maybe someone had taken it. He smiled and proudly told me he’d found a room.”

“You knew nothing of his history?”

“Not then, but when I found out who he was, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend, I didn’t care. By then he was my friend Bucky. Then when I heard of his horrible imprisonment and torture, I loved him even more for being strong enough to do that. To be tortured and broken and to come away to find his own way, and to be proud of getting his own place in one of the most expensive cities, he was able to find an affordable place to stay warm.”

“Sergeant, how did you afford this place?”

“Ma’am, first you gotta know, that it was just a room – a studio they called it – it wasn’t anything fancy. I started repairing computers. I had technical knowledge from my… time… with hydra and I found that researching how to repair and build computers in the library relaxed me. It gave me a new focus. I’m still doing that, fixing things for people. It’s not a horrible way to make a living but my dream is to be a teacher.”

I watched their faces, waiting for the look that said an assassin couldn’t be a teacher. I was impressed that none of them projected that image.

The male officer and the congressman exchanged words low enough that I couldn’t make them out. I glanced at the end of the table; Ember was relaxed with her hands laced and her chin resting on them, no change. I was concerned that maybe she wasn’t connecting with any of them.

The officer spoke, “Sergeant, you wouldn’t consider fighting with the Avengers? Your strength and abilities – would serve them well, don’t you think?”

“Sir.” This was the hardest thing I found myself facing, I was determined this time around to make my wishes known, but freedom was still such a powerful incentive, “If that is a condition for a positive outcome to this meeting, I’d have to resolutely decline. I won’t trade being free for being coerced to fight.

“I’m not sure how this all works, but I am relatively certain that if I were exonerated I would still, at the very least, be a sergeant in the army, and I would hopefully be allowed to be discharged after all this time. That said; if I were allowed the _choice_ as a **free agent** to join Steve and Sam and fight for the greater good, yes. I would join them.”

By the time they decided they wanted to deliberate and break for a couple of hours, I was tired and I thought the feeling in my gut could either be anxiety or hunger and I was afraid to address either of them. Outside the conference room, Ember grabbed me in a bear hug, “you’re doing great Bucky.” She smiled. She pulled away, brushing my cheek with her hand, “you’re doing so well.”

“You are, you know?” Steve wrapped me in his arms, “nice way to announce us, you jerk.”

“Yeah? You’re free to do exactly this now, you’re welcome.” I smiled into his neck, feeling a thousand times better.

“I think we should take advantage of this break and get some food.” Sam announced.

In the weeks since first meeting Shayla, she’d been very focused on my case, making sure that Dr. P. was involved as well as her meticulous selection of people who were facing us in the room today. She appeared extremely pleased with herself as she offered to buy lunch for everyone “for personal reasons – this one won’t be a tax deduction.” She claimed. I looked around me, I’ve got some amazing friends, and I was just starting to imagine that this just might work out.


	29. Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watched her go, feeling torn between hope that it was a sign of good things and fear that it was a thumb in the eye. Swept up in it all I didn’t notice or mind the people at the table, but now that she was gone I turned to slide back into my seat and noticed everyone looking at me. “This makes the second time I’ve gone somewhere and been recognized. I guess it’s a good thing we’re doing this shit.”
> 
> “It’s ok Buck.” Steve said softly, putting his hand on my knee as I slid next to him.
> 
> “I hope so. I just want today over with so I know what happens next.” I disregarded all eyes on me and laid my head on his shoulder, needing the contact more than I could have expressed. He gave my knee a squeeze and I felt a little better just knowing he was there no matter what happened.

 

We all gathered at a diner down the street, an unspoken agreement to not discuss the meeting seemed to be in the air. Everyone ordered something different and as usual Steve seemed more interested in my order than his own.

“Here, half and half.” I cut my burger in half and swiped half of his BLT. He grinned, he'd known exactly what I would do, and looked so proud of himself.

“You know,” Sam said, “They make this amazing thing called a _bacon_ cheeseburger… so you don’t have to choose bacon or a burger.”

Ember gave him a nudge just after taking a very unladylike bite of her own sandwich, Steve just laughed, “I don’t know why but it happens every time.”

“You should just wait until _after_ I order and _then_ you would know what you want.” I teased.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I think it’s cute.” Ember offered, her bite finally managed, “but knowing the appetites of these boys, I’m surprised they don’t just order one of each.”

“Appearances, doll.” I smirked tossing a fry at and hitting Ember square in the forehead “Crack shot!”

George, ever the doctor, he'd seemed to just be observing until this point when he delighted the entire table with a belly laugh. I would probably never be able to have a normal session again. He’d always _be_ the laugh now. That body shaking, joyful sound that was like music.

“That’s it! I have to find a new therapist, I will be imagining that laugh every time I say something remotely embarrassing.” Steve surprised everyone by saying aloud.

“I was thinking that exact thing!” I grinned at Steve then looked at George, who had not abandoned his mirth, but was trying to contain it.

“I can give you some names.” George smirked.

“Don’t even think it. I have about opened up to my limit of people. I can’t start all over.” I warned him with a wink.

I was distracted from further conversation when a young woman across the diner caught my eye, she’d just come in and appeared to be picking up an order. She kept looking at me; enough that it was starting to make me very uncomfortable. I didn’t recognize her but somehow thought I should. She brushed her blonde bangs from her face and squared up her shoulders before turning to face our table. She started down the aisle. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. What… my heart pounded, you can handle this, she’s just a girl not much younger than you Barnes. Shit. Shit. Shit. There was something familiar - why couldn’t I place her? What had I done to her? Shit. My stomach lurched and I took a breath that hitched as it passed the tightness in my throat. I exhaled, watching her stop next to Sam across the table from me.

“Excuse me?” she had a soft voice, “I’m sorry, but are you ‘Bucky’?”

Bucky. She called me Bucky. Who would I have introduced myself to, why couldn’t I remember this cute young girl? “Yes, that’s me.” I tried to smile, she looked uncomfortable, but determined.

“Oh in a million years I would never have thought I’d meet you. In a city this size! I’m sorry, I’m. I’m Ellie’s mom, Stevie and Ellie? You helped my children and I never thought I would get to thank you.”

“Princess Ellie? You’re her mom?” There it was, the familiarity, it was plain as day now, her kids favored her. “You’ll never know how your daughter saved _me!_ ” I couldn’t stop the tears; they were far too close to the surface today. I rose from the booth “I just have to hug the mother of my princess.”

She chuckled in my embrace, wrapping her arms around me as tightly as I was holding on to her. “She talks about you all of the time, I recognized you by the kids’ description of your arm. Oh – I’m so sorry should I not have said – ?” She asked shyly as she slowly pulled away.

“You’re perfectly fine.” I smiled, hoping to reassure her. It was obvious where her kids got their open and earnest ways, “How is she? She’s not traumatized from being lost is she? It’s so hard being lost and alone.”

“Oh no, not my little fighter. She just keeps telling everyone who will listen about her “knight in shiny armor” and I have to tell you, I thought she was telling a fairytale. I swear, I thought you were her imaginary friend, no matter what Stevie tried to tell me.” she looked around at everyone at the table, “Oh! I’m so sorry I interrupted your lunch! I just had to say hello to the man who found my lost daughter and got her safely to her brother.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Steve smiled, “Bucky told me all about Ellie, and he’s not exaggerating, she came along at a very important moment in his life and for that she’s special to us both and I’ve never even met her. I can only imagine the little beauty from all of his talk.” He blushed, “I even drew her from his description one time, if that’s not too weird to admit.”

“Oh, just try to stop me from telling her that ‘Captain America’ drew a picture of her.” She chuckled. Steve didn't even bother to deny it when she identified him, “I need to get lunch back to the store but I’d love to keep in touch with you, Bucky, if you don’t mind? If Ellie hears that I saw you and didn’t bring you right home to her, I’ll have to have an alternative or I’ll never live it down.”

“Of course – if you’d like – sure.” Yeah, I stammered through that one, so unused to this social aspect of daily life, and a little concerned about the afternoon and my possible inability to keep in touch with anyone. Steve picked my phone up from the table; a bright shiny new smart phone that he’d recently gifted me with “just because”, and handed it to her.

“I'm Mary, by the way.” She said as she entered her info. “I’ll send myself a text while I’m standing here, that way I have yours, you have mine. I promise I’m not a serial texter and I don’t drunk text.” Her raspberry tipped fingers sped along the surface of my phone and she smiled as she handed it to me.

“Same.” I smiled. “Thank you for coming over and saying ‘Hi’. I think of your kids often, if that’s not just as weird as Steve here drawing your daughter from a description.”

“Not at all. I’d say a good impression was made all around. And you’re welcome. Thank you for taking time out to not only help a couple of kids months ago, but today too, to accept my gratitude.”

I watched her go, feeling torn between hope that it was a sign of good things and fear that it was a thumb in the eye. Swept up in it all I didn’t notice or mind the people at the table, but now that she was gone I turned to slide back into my seat and noticed everyone looking at me. “This makes the second time I’ve gone somewhere and been recognized. I guess it’s a good thing we’re doing this shit.”

“It’s ok Buck.” Steve said softly, putting his hand on my knee as I slid next to him.

“I hope so. I just want today over with so I know what happens next.” I disregarded all eyes on me and laid my head on his shoulder, needing the contact more than I could have expressed. He gave my knee a squeeze and I felt a little better just knowing he was there no matter what happened.

I looked at Ember who gave me a smile before retaliating from my earlier attack by chucking a fry – dipped in ketchup – directly into Steve’s water glass. I laughed so hard I thought I’d choke, “You missed. So bad.”

“Did I?” she smirked, “You can’t even say I wasn’t aiming for---” she giggled “Steve’s water – shit, I’m sorry Steve.”

He was laughing so hard the bench was shaking. “It’s ok Ember,” he got out mid laughter, “I’d call it a hit – if you were shooting for making him laugh.”

“I dare you to drink it.” Sam chuckled.

“No thank you.” Steve laughed, “Be my guest.” He pushed the glass across the table.

“Oh no… No thank you.” Sam shoved back, to the laughter of the whole table

The moment was leveled by the alarm on Shayla’s phone. “Well fellas, it’s about time to return. Let’s take this fun back to the conference room.” She smiled hopefully.

First one out of the booth, I stood and eagerly took Steve’s offered hand as he unfolded himself from the booth next, gathering our belongings at the same time. We walked ahead and ducked outside. “Bucky, things are going to be great.” He said as we stepped out onto the rainy sidewalk. “You look amazing in this suit, by the way.” He straightened my tie before opening the umbrella he carried to shield us from the rain that had started while we dined.

“Don’t even get me started on suits – you stepped off the runway, you supermodel.” I teased, “I hope you’re right. Are you still with me if you happen to be wrong?”

“Of course, Buck. Whatever it takes.” He whispered in my ear before kissing my neck. “I plan on being right. I also plan on taking you away to celebrate.”

Everyone had filed out of the diner by then so all I could do was give him a confused look as we headed up the rain-soaked sidewalk. As we got closer to the office building his hand slipped from mine to my waist and he pulled me close. We walked in together at his pace since I would have slowed mine and well he knew it.

* * *

 

We took the same seats we’d occupied before and waited for the rest to return from their deliberation. My fingers shook as I slipped them into Steve’s when they entered the room. “They’re just people, Buck. They’ve been nothing but respectful. Remember to breathe.” He said softly.

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain, might we have a word with the two of you in private.”

I rose to my feet, Steve beside me doing the same, I looked at Shayla who was rising, and gathering her things, she gave a small nod. “Yes Ma’am.” I answered dutifully. The rest of our party stood and I looked at Ember who waited until everyone had stepped out before she left the room with the rest of them. She gave me a quick two thumbs up and her rings were still shining and intact.

“Sergeant. I want to apologize for making you wait. Please would you both be seated?” The congressman spoke first.

We sat back into our chairs and waited for them to be seated as well.

“We took just under an hour of the time we were away to talk amongst ourselves and then we each called a superior or a colleague to discuss the merits of moving forward with a trial.” The congressman continued.

My heart was hammering, I was afraid they could hear it. I just kept the image of Ember’s thumbs up in my sights.

The D.A. interjected, “under the circumstances we have decided that it would be in the best interests of all involved to avoid such public scrutiny. Sergeant James Barnes has long been heralded a war hero and the fact of the matter is, you were a victim. We don’t wish to vilify you to the public nor do we want to be viewed as the villain by punishing you when clearly you’ve suffered enough. It has been stressed that your imprisonment and your subsequent actions occurred while under your service to the Army. In light of this we have acquiesced to have everything turned over to the JAG.”

I was sweating. So far I’m still not off the hook. Almost felt free and clear for one brief, glorious minute and then I had to be reminded I’m in the army.

The two politicians shook our hands and offered their well-wishes before leaving us to the two JAG officers.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the female officer said softly, “We are not any more interested in a court martial than they were a trial, for many of the same reasons. I’m the one who should apologize for making you wait as long as you did. The two of us had several higher ranking officials on a conference call discussing you and your case. General Robertson was especially interested in your case and was on the phone with us for his entire drive here.” She sat back, looking toward the door they’d come in through.

“Well, we meet again, Bucky Barnes.” A vaguely familiar voice spoke from the doorway. I looked up to see the man from the barber shop, James. General James Robertson?

“General?” I rose as he approached my chair. “I’m confused, sir. Why did you call _me_ ‘sir’ that day, clearly you outrank me?”

“Retired, with the smarts and still enough pull to talk some sense into this handful of polished fools.” He said with a stronger, much less star-struck voice. “And you deserve the honor of the title, _sir_. After all, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, sir, I’m always pleased to see you, even if you have left me practically speechless.”

He shook my hand and grinned. “Don’t ever let anyone take your voice again, young man.” He winked taking the chair next to mine.

We listened as the two JAG officers traded off on information which boils down to this: Officially, I’m still a sergeant in the army but my rank is being reconsidered for possible and likely promotion and I can be discharged if I wish. There would be adjusted back-pay coming to me retroactive for the seventy year span.

And I’m free.

I stood there for some time after the officers left, I couldn’t exactly move. I was shocked as I replayed the morning; I’d had emotional moments, but never actually freaked out. When I broke down, I had been able to regain my composure. Now I knew I should feel something but I wasn’t sure what. The terror was gone and it was the only thing I’d ever known when considering my future.

“Buck.” Steve approached softly, as though approaching a skittish animal; he smiled sweetly, “you did it.”

“What now?” I asked, a new lump formed, “Steve?”

“Baby steps.” He smiled. “You never made a “what now” list, so we’ll have to work on one. First, we go find our friends. They’re waiting right outside that door.”

As he’d promised, we left the room to see our group waiting for us. “No cuffs?” Sam asked, clearly pleased with himself for the joke.

Ember wasn’t so pleased with it, giving Sam a glare before tugging me and Steve into a hug too giant to come from such a small girl.

Dr. P. waved us off with a “congratulations, see you at our next session” and Shayla smiled, having gotten the information via text while we were being given a brief heart attack before finally getting the good news. She told us she’d like to see us sometime for “non-business related” stuff before hugging Sam and excusing herself, leaving just the four of us.

“We should celebrate.” Ember announced in her bubbly and excited way.

“Sweetie, I love you.” I hugged her close, suddenly feeling the lack of sleep and the drain from the emotions, “But I’m so, so tired. Can we celebrate tomorrow?”

“Oh honey, of course. I didn’t even – I’m sorry, I’m usually so good at picking up on that.”

“You’re excited. And I love you for it.” I kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow? I promise.”

I pulled Sam into a big hug next, “Thank you for everything. You know I wouldn’t be here right now without you.”

“Hey. I had my moments wondering about you, but something – way back when you first rang my phone – told me to give this guy a chance. I’d do it again, honestly.”

Steve was even more effusive in his thanks to them both, I just didn’t have the energy, but I stood by with my hands in my pockets, and enjoyed their interactions through half-lidded eyes.

The four of us walked together in the crisp air, the rain had subsided, and we separated at the parking structure with firm plans to meet the next day in the afternoon. I climbed onto the bike behind Steve and held on. “You going to make it home, Buck?” he asked over his shoulder.

“M-hmm. I’m good.” I promised.

* * *

 

Once we were home I dropped my coat at the door and kicked my shoes off right next to it. I didn’t even bother going into the bedroom, just flopped onto the sofa, and lay back, watching him pick up after me before coming to sit by me.

“We did it Buck.” He smiled, reaching for my tie and loosening it before tugging it free of my collar.

“Yeah, you did!” I smirked, eyes closed and half sleeping.

“WE did.” He insisted, unbuttoning my shirt.

“Stevie, I’m too tired.” I grumbled.

“I know it. You’re too tired to undress yourself for bed, so I’m helping. I have no expectations.” He brushed a kiss on my cheek. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I’m half zonked. I’m comfortable. Only thing that will make it better? You and a blanket. C’mon.”

“You’d regret sleeping on the sofa come morning.” He tugged my hand to pull me up. I followed, only able to do so because of the momentum of his tugging.

He undressed me and led me to the bed, then undressed himself and crawled over me to his side of the bed before pulling me close. “I’m so happy Buck.”

“Mm-hm. Me too. It’s about time. How did we end up managing it under the radar though?” I yawned, “Did you have something to do with that?”

“Keeping you safe and secret helped. All of the rest was a combined effort, Tony and Pepper along with Shayla.”

“I guess there’ll be press soon enough.” I yawned again, burying my head in his warmth.

“Yup. After we get back, there will undoubtedly be press.”

“Get back from where?” I peeked at him through partially opened eyes.

“I don’t know. Remember, Thor promised to help.” He stroked my cheek, relaxing me further. “Go to sleep. Tell me tomorrow what you dream about and we’ll go there.”

“I love you Stevie.”

“I love you too, sleepyhead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even - when I wrote this (before at least the last 5 chapters that came before it) I was sad because it was ending, which is why it took me some time to write those chapters that led up to it.
> 
> I do have something else up my sleeve though, for these two, because I don't want this over just yet, but with Civil War on our doorstep, I wanted [this universe's] Bucky's fate determined before I see the movie.


	30. Asgardian Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey... guess who? I was finally able to figure out what Steve and Thor had planned. Somebody's gettin' laid too.

He warned me. ‘You have to pace yourself. You’re going to crash.’ I don’t know what that means, or I didn’t, but now I do.

I’m so tired. Not exhausted like after the hearing, but drained. Awake, and incapable of anything, except to plug words into this notebook a few at a time. I don’t want to forget the past few days. If memories I’ve made become fragile like the ones I lost and have to search for, then I want to put the feeling down _today_.

Hanging with Sam and Ember is easy. Steve and I have done that so often it’s like home. Adding all of Steve’s friends into the mix because they want to support him, that’s fine because my boy deserves the support, but it’s my fucking celebration.

I can’t fault Ember for wanting to incorporate everyone; she even took the brunt of the attention when the pressure I felt threatened to be too much. Encouraging wishes of good will died down from Nat, Clint, Thor, and Stark, leaving me to my thoughts.

I’m honestly glad that they came, even if so much personality and excitement is proving to be a bit too much for me just yet. Steve and Thor had their heads together so often that I wasn't the only one wondering what kind of secrets they could be sharing. I didn't even consider the things the others were speculating. I’d known he'd been talking to Thor about helping if we needed to get away and more than once, Steve has teased that whatever I can dream up for a getaway he could enlist Thor to assist. Everyone else – or should I say Stark and Barton – started implying that Steve and Thor were plotting their own intimate rendezvous. Ridiculous. At least I thought so until my emotions started grating on me. I retreated to the kitchen where Ember was fixing the salad.

“Hey, what's up sweetie?”

“They're not…”

“Who?”

“Steve and Thor. I'd know.”

“You'd instigate it.” She laughed, putting her arms around my waist. “Invite me when you do.” Ember has always been able to make me laugh when I get too serious about something.

Steve came in to see if Ember needed any help with the food and saw us giggling, “it's about me isn't it?”

“It's about Ember and me.” I told him, “if you're nice I'll tell you about it later. Make yourself useful and take this to the table.”

He brushed past me with a kiss before grabbing the salad bowl and serving utensils from the counter. “If you’re gonna be that way about it.”

“Hey, if you want to hash it out now, I know how you blush. Explain that away Stevie.” I couldn’t resist teasing – and swatting his ass.

“Now you’ve done it, Bucky, he’s blushing anyway.” Ember giggled, patting his arm. “Thanks for doing the physical labor Steve.”

“Any time.” He quipped, “you comin’ Buck?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a few.”

“You ok?” Can’t I ever get one over on him – at least for a few hours? No.

“No, I guess not.” I confessed.

Ember took the salad stuff from Steve, “you guys want to go into my bedroom and talk Bucky?”

“Thanks sweetie, yeah. Come with me for a minute Steve?”

“Sure Buck.” His brow furrowed and his smile disappeared. He followed me into Ember’s eclectic bedroom, looking around at the colorful art on the wall, including a painting she’d bought from him. He stood in the center of the room quietly, with his hands behind his back.

“So, Stark and Barton were talking.”

“Oh boy.” Steve started to grin and it faded again, “ok, what were they saying? You know they like to – oh, you don’t. They like to rile each other up with challenges and quips.”

“They were saying there’s something going on between you and Thor. I get it Steve he’s massive. He’s practically perfect and a perfect guy like you deserves that, you do. But even as much as I flirt with Ember, and promise to share you, I don’t want to share. I won’t.”

“What are you talking about? Yeah, something’s going on between us, I told you he’s helping me with my surprise for you.” The realization of what I was saying struck him, like a brick, if his face and tone were any indication, “Bucky! Buck – no. I wouldn’t do that behind your back. If I were interested in _anyone_ other than you, I’d tell you openly, but I’m not. You’re the one Buck, for my whole life, I’ve loved you.”

“You love Peggy too. I can’t compete with that level of perfection, Peggy and Thor? I couldn’t compete.”

“Yeah, I love Peggy too. Baby, you don’t have to worry about any competition. Thor’s just a good friend. He’s just a friend Buck. Those two jokers are being insensitive. I’m sorry.”

“I’m being ridiculous. I guess being surrounded by so many people I barely know is getting under my skin.”

He pulled me close, “You’re fine, they have a way of behaving badly, and I’ll go put a stop to it.”

“No.” I tugged his shirt as he started away, “Don’t. They barely know me either; I don’t want them getting the wrong idea so soon, that’s hard to come back from. I have a better idea, how open is Thor to playing with their heads? Could we – the three of us – lead them on?”

He was quiet, I thought for sure he was going to tell me to cut it out, but what he did was text Thor to come join us in the bedroom.

We heard whoops as Thor slipped through the doorway and I rolled my eyes, catching my reflection in Ember’s full-length mirror.

“What idiots.” I muttered, causing both muscular blondes to laugh heartily. They were an absolute vision. “Thor, do you know what they’re speculating?”

“Of course I do, their juvenile mischief is not lost on anyone here.”

“Are you up for giving them a little taste of their own mischief? I mean if you find that offensive, I…”

“I am always game for sport, and though making sport of those two is hardly a challenge, I would enjoy seeing their speechless, ruddy faces, what did you have in mind James?”

“Please Thor, call me Bucky. James is what the government and my therapist insist on calling me, it’s not who I am.”

“Very well, Bucky, I look forward to hearing your strategy.”

How can you not love a guy with such a simple acceptance and unwavering speech pattern? “Ok, so half of the plan was put into effect as soon as you walked through the door, if their guffaws could be any indication. We just need to let them think we’re – the three of us – having the best possible superhero sex.”

“We could do as you say, and let them think this, or we can do so and we would reap the benefits, and they would have to find an alternative sport.”

“Well, Thor, as tempting as your offer is, I’m not willing to share Bucky, and he’s not willing to share me, unless you’ve changed your mind in the past five minutes Buck.”

“I like the way you think, Thor, and if Stevie here wasn’t painfully right, I’d take you up on it. We, well I am very monogamous, even if I do flirt like a whore when the ships come in.”

They both laughed again, making me really doubt my monogamy.

“Then let us commence the farce.” He said with the straightest face.

“You’re not offended?” I couldn’t help but ask, I mean how many times has this man been turned down?

“Why would I be offended? You and Steve are close and I respect that. If there is only flirting outside your relationship, then it must be because you are comfortable and you have the mutual trust and respect of one another.”

We crafted a perfectly planned series of thumps and fleshy sounds, some gruff noises and some very embarrassing pet names that caused the three of us to dissolve into giggles, especially difficult to maintain the ‘farce’ when we were staring at a very red-faced Steve while all trying to rein in the practically childlike giggling. Some of those strangled noises might have added to the production in ways we didn’t know at the time, and Steve’s deep crimson blush wasn’t ready to fade when we walked out of Ember’s room, one at a time, I tossed a wink at Ember and a high-five at Sam.

Sam, his face was priceless. At first he had bought into the whole thing, the wink between Ember and me must have tipped the scales and realization covered him with a touch of relief, and was nearly as evident as Steve’s pink cheeks.

“I need a smoke.” I announced, heading out to go to the roof.

“Wait up.” Sam said from the almost-closed door. “Hey.”

I turned, he was three stairs below me, “what? They wanted a show.”

“I know, jackasses. Can I come up?”

“Isn’t this your building more than it’s mine? I mean you’re here more often than I am.”

“Funny man.” He said, jogging up behind me. “So, that little show? Whose idea was that?”

“It was a group effort. I know you weren’t in on it, I know you thought something was going on, but please tell me you got video of their reactions?”

“I didn’t.”

I screwed my face up in a disappointed scowl before lighting the cigarette in my hand.

“Ember did.” Sam said with his big and beautiful gap-toothed smile.

“Fuck you.” I shoved his shoulder.

“Well, she did, I didn’t. I couldn’t exactly lie. Bucky, you’re a completely different man than the guy I met six months ago.”

“Not sniveling and homeless?”

“You weren’t homeless.”

“Thanks.” I flicked ashes away from both of us. “You’re to blame you know.”

“I’ll take some of the blame. I’ll share some with you, and with Ember and Steve. You’re a group project.” He laughed.

“I am something, that’s for sure. I don’t like to think of where I might have been if it hadn’t been for you, and for Ember. Don’t get me started on Steve.” I’m sure my eyes went dreamy, I felt like they went dreamy, just thinking of that man and how much he loves me, makes me do embarrassing things.

“You gotta remember, you’re the one that reached out. You let people in.”

“I guess I did. Alone wasn’t cutting it. I was so alone, Sam.” I think the entire pit of loneliness let itself out of me with the words. They sounded ancient and tired and spent.

“Well, now you’ll never know a moment’s peace.” Sam continued as though I hadn’t just puked out my terror, dread, and sadness in five words.

“I do though. Isolation is louder than companionship. There’s too many opportunities to lose myself to the screaming.”

“How are the sessions with Dr. P. coming? He can help with that.”

“I know, he’s given me tools, assignments and it helps. When I’m able to pull out of it enough to remember. There’ve been times I didn’t think I deserved coming out of the dark.”

“Recently?”

“Yeah, Steve’s usually the one to lower the rope, so to speak. I hate doing that to him, he has his own demons, nightmares that wake him and me both, sweat and chills, he doesn’t need my garbage adding to the weight of his terrors.”

“That’s why you both have Dr. Petrakis. Have you told the doc about this stubborn streak where you want to hog all your problems and protect the shield of the nation?”

“I guess that’s my next “what do you want to talk about James?” topic.” I blew smoke out and watched it trail over the city. “Small contributions. It seems like I’m trying to fill the Grand Canyon of despair by the spoonful.”

“You’re waxing poetic. Time to write a novel or something with prose like that. Have you heard from NYU?”

“No, not yet. I don’t think I will, I don’t guess they want my particular brand of knowledge.”

“That’s a fine way to think. You aced the tests. You’re smart, scary fucking smart Bucky.”

“I should be, how much of what’s in my head was mine? How much was put there?”

“I’d say it doesn’t matter, if you have knowledge, use it for good. I bet NYU will be contacting you, and no, I haven’t conned Stark into paying anyone to accept you. He doesn’t even know or you’d be in. Guy only knows how to buy affection. Doesn’t have to, but that’s where he is.”

“I like him. Feel shitty that I’m the reason his parents died. I liked Howard too. A lot.”

“Dirty bastards.” Sam seethed.

I flicked the butt of my cigarette to punctuate his comment then cursed, “Shit, I hate when people do that.” I crouched to pick it up and looked up to see Sam laughing.

“You’re such a menace. Can’t even litter a single cigarette butt.”

“Fuck, I’m not trying to be a menace, I’m trying to be a decent human being. Including not littering thank you very much.”

“So how did that little performance between the three of you get started? I get that the children in the room were making lude comments, but…”

“Steve and Thor have had their heads together for a while. He’s planning a “surprise”. You know, I’ve had enough ‘surprises’ in my life, he doesn’t have to do this. Do you know what they’re up to?”

“I know you’ll find out today. I also know I won’t be telling you.”

“Today? Well, if it’s so soon, why don’t you just let me in on the secret? That way I don’t have to suffer. I’ll be surprised, just early that’s all.”

“Listen, I’m your friend, but I was his friend first. So, no, I won’t betray him, not even for something as common as the ideas he’s got in his head.”

“Ooh, thought maybe you’d slip there. So you won’t tell.”

Sam shook his head, arms folded over his chest, defiant and stoic.

“I love your loyalty to Steve. Don’t ever change.” I patted his shoulder as I passed him. “He needs people like you.”

“Barnes, I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.” He followed. “You’re gettin’ real good at complimenting people.”

I smiled, feeling uncomfortable. It was probably a pained look, maybe. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I looked to see a note from Steve, “nice touch, the cigarette really has them behaving awkwardly.” And a sly picture of the two jokers, not quite so funny now, looking no less than shocked.

I busted up laughing and passed the phone to Sam, unable to form words.

“You managed to shut them up. That’s sayin’ something.” Sam chuckled. “You put on a pretty raunchy show, by the way.”

“We’re all _very_ creative individuals.” I said, following Sam down the stairs.

“Yeah, powerfully creative, remind me to never let the three of you be alone together again.”

“You loved it.”

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.” he shook his head, muscles in his neck and shoulders giving away the silent laughter he thought I couldn’t discern.

I have what years of torture ingrained in me, a ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression that is nearly as second nature as breathing now. It’s an expression I usually have to work hard at _not having_ , but I’ll admit, the surprise I felt having to struggle to keep it in place, was real. I walked in with the hopes that the mask of a hardened killer wouldn’t fail me, as I felt the heat of what had to be a blush threatening my cheeks and neck. I was determined not to be the one who was going to be played by our little joke.

I’m guessing it worked well enough. Steve was concerned, so it must not have been my normal ‘don’t fuck with me’ face. “I’m fine, trying to be intimidating instead of intimidated.” I said when he asked quietly. I kissed him to prove my point.

“Ok then. We ready to eat? I’m sure the salad has wilted, but Ember says the timer’s about to go off on your oven creations.”

“Mmm. I’m ready to eat.” I purred into his neck, “But let’s have dinner.”

He can’t stop himself from blushing. I love that.

After dinner, which was much more subdued than the pre-dinner festivities, thank Thor, Steve tugged me toward the door, didn’t let me say thank you or help Ember clear the table first, just said “follow me”. Of course, I followed.

The sun was just setting, painting the Brooklyn sky in colors that you’d expect would only happen in art. He stopped near the ledge, “do you remember all the nights we’d lie out and look at the stars? When we would point to one and name it? How many times did we wish on shooting stars Buck?”

“More than just a few. No stars to be seen yet, too bright. It’s a shame, we probably won’t be able to see many through the haze of the city lights.”

“You’re going to see more stars than you could ever imagine.” He said softly, putting his arms around my waist. “Do ya trust me Buck?”

“With my life Stevie.”

No sooner had I said it, then giant arms banded around both of us and there was light, and color, and as promised, more stars than I could _ever_ imagine.

I remember looking into Steve’s eyes, seeing a glint of something among the reflections of the shards of rainbow in the brilliant blue, he smiled like a gleeful, innocent child before kissing me. I remember landing like a feather to see a completely foreign horizon, and I remember promptly vomiting my dinner.

That wasn’t part of the planned surprise. He crouched next to me as I grasped the ground and waited for the spinning to stop. His hand felt heavy on my shoulder and my head wasn’t able to stop spinning. I gasped for breath until he grabbed me from behind and held me tight against his chest, regulating my breathing in that timeworn way we have. Thor stood several feet away, graciously displaying his muscular back and giving us the privacy of the moment.

“I’m fine.” I tried to shove away from Steve, “Stevie I’m ok.” I said more firmly.

“What happened?”

“It was most likely a reaction to atmospheric and gravitational pressures caused by the swift change in realms.” Thor offered over his shoulder. “Conversely, it could have been what you call motion sickness.”

“I’m voting a wicked combination of both.” I said, stabilizing myself on all fours before I attempted standing. “Stevie, are you ok?”

“Fine Buck, are you?”

“I’d be better if you stopped swaying.” I said, aware of how stupid it sounded. He stood over me and held a hand out. I looked up to see the source of light silhouetting his face, giving him a halo. I reached for him and he tugged me to my feet and into his arms.

“Not movin’ Buck.” He said into my hair, “you sure you’re ok?”

“I think that depends on your answer to my question, where the hell are we?”

“Asgard.” He stepped back a half-step, took my face in his long fingers, “Will you marry me, Buck?”

“Here?” I searched his face for the punchline, I looked at Thor who was standing casually waiting for either the planet ( realm?), wherever we were, to swallow me, or for me to answer the man in my arms.

“Here. We can have a party at home. In fact, Stark’s already got the ball rolling on that, but I wanted to do something out of this world – well out of _that_ world for you. Sam and Ember will be here in time, if you say yes. If you say no, we’ll just have that vacation I promised you.”

“Let’s do it. I’m sure you have details ironed out, you couldn’t have been conspiring with this one for so long without making more plans than just abducting me from a rooftop.”

He patiently waited for me to snark at him before tugging me in for a kiss that even had Thor turning away and fiddling with the handle of Mjolnir as a distraction.

“I love you James Buchanan Barnes.” He said passionately as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I can’t believe we’re here at this point, finally.”

“Believe it Steve. So how does this work?” I asked them both.

“I’ve asked Thor to officiate, I mean it’ll only be legal on Asgard no matter who does it, but at home, just before the “Starkified”,” he said it sarcastically, complete with air quotes, “celebration, Sam will do the legal honors on Earth. I hope two ceremonies are ok, I thought you were worth the excess.” He smiled with a blush that could have been the reflection of the Asgardian sky, but I knew it by heart by now.

“I’d marry you a thousand times Steven Grant Rogers.” I said with words that could only graze the depth of my emotion for this man.

“Well then.” Thor spoke, “Have you recovered from your travels? There are accommodations awaiting you. Once you are settled I must retrieve Ember and Sam. Is that the extent of your guests?”

“Call him Son of Wil when you see him.” I teased, remembering what Steve had told me about Thor and Phil Coulson. “Tell him I dared you to. I don’t have anyone else I’d care to share with.”

“I like him.” He told Steve, “He makes you happy?”

“Immeasurably, Thor. Even with _that_ sense of humor. Ember and Sam are enough, we’ll be surrounded when we get back.” Steve said, offering me a supportive arm around my waist.

“I’m fine Stevie.” His arm relaxed, but didn’t drop I was ok with that.

.-.-.

We weren’t dressed in entirely traditional Asgardian attire, but it was some surprisingly comfortable hybrid of Earth and Asgard fashion. The night before was wildly opposite of the peaceful dinner we’d had (and I’d subsequently rejected) at Ember’s. Sam and Ember in place, we were separated from one another, Steve with Sam and half of Thor’s men. Ember came with me and Thor, as well as the other half of his men. We were on a quest to recover the (symbolic) ancestral sword. Each side had someone who had supplied a warrior’s sword from their lineage to be gifted to the two of us, if we could discover its hidden place and recover it from where it had been ensconced. Ember was almost as aggressive in her taunting and encouragement as Thor’s men. I wondered if she wasn’t hiding a secret Asgardian identity. Thor continuously compared her to Sif, in the most complimentary way.

Finding and unearthing (de-asgarding?) the broadsword took more time due to the Asgardian whiskey we had all imbibed in (Sam and Ember were given a less heady brew), and was fraught with fights and with laughter. I think I gave a fair share of bruises, and came to the bathhouse with a shiner that wouldn’t fade until morning.

It was surreal, and naughty and a little bit decadent to have Ember bathe me. She volunteered before any of the rest could assign someone, and I felt shy for a moment. I briefly, jealously wondered what lovely attendant would be, or had washed Steve, I knew it wouldn’t be the warrior Sif, and I was surprised my little warrior nymph was open to it. It wasn’t something sexual, at any point, just, as I said, naughty and decadent. Coming out of the tub, she covered me with a robe and said softly, “Don’t tell Sam.”

“I won’t honey, but you’d better.” I winked, knowing she would, after the mead and excitement cooled off.

I was now standing next to the man who meant more to me than the nine realms, the stars in between and all of the years we’ve been together and apart. He looked a little sheepish, a smidgen tired and as nervous as I was. I half expected him to have an asthma attack he looked so drawn.

“Stevie, you’re beautiful.” I said to calm him, and because it was true, even with the emotion etched into the lines between his eyes and the soft valleys in his forehead.

“I’m… Buck, I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? This is the thing I want more than anything.”

“If you didn’t have a bit of nerves, it wouldn’t be a big deal, and this is a big deal.” I kissed his furrowed brow. “You’re my big deal.”

He touched the color on my cheek, it didn’t hurt so much as feel tender, “You got very into whatever your challenge was.”

“We might have sparred a bit.” I chuckled. “You should see the other guy.”

“I tussled with Sif, and nearly lost an arm.” He admitted, pulling on his right shoulder. “We’d have made quite a pair.”

“Lefty and Righty.” I said taking his fingers and kissing them, “I think one of us with a hybrid body is enough.”

We were surely making a spectacle, standing in the open circle of people where we had stopped to greet one another. Well, I am guessing we can be forgiven our ignorance, as we’re as foreign as they come. I turned to see Thor waiting with a patient smile. Steve adjusted the sword scabbard, “ok, this is it love.” He said quietly.

We followed tradition loosely, presenting our swords to one another and exchanging rings. I’d nearly forgotten about the rings until a light panic nearly had me streaking from my bath and Ember had told me that they’d brought them with them.

Married. Husbands. I sighed and nearly cried at the pronouncement.

There was a harried ‘procession’ to the hall. I think it was supposed to be a race, but was something more like a mad melee. Gods, drunk on whiskey and mead versus underestimated, sober (well practically sober), super soldiers. We beat the lot of them, Steve and I, laughing and leaping over the threshold. As everyone filtered in, we held onto one another.

“I can’t believe you did this Stevie.” I roared over the loud party.

“Anything for you Buck.” He chuckled. “Sam and Ember are so done for.”

I followed his gaze, to see them holding onto one another with silly, soppy smiles on their faces. I hoped someone would take a picture of that, I’d lost track of where my phone was, and I didn’t even know if it worked anyway. There couldn’t possibly be service, maybe the camera would function? Maybe it just imploded on itself, I don’t know how ‘Midgardian’ items behave on Asgard.

We approached the rooftree as we’d been instructed and each plunged our swords into the ancient, scarred wood. There were cheers, jeers, and challenges to see just what kind of luck our marriage would hold as the Asgardians laughed.

We toasted Thor and his ancestry as a good guest (and we’d find out later, a good Norseman) would do and he waved us off in that half-drunk, friendly way of his. He toasted us as his “good friends”, I was sure that was for Steve’s benefit until later.

“You do not believe the words of my toast?”

“Of course I do. Steve’s a wonderful person, a great friend to anyone who’ll be patient until he can open up to them.”

“Did we not have a fine time last night, you and I? Have we not perpetrated pranks together? Can we not be friends as well?”

“Of course we can. But we’re not _good friends_. You hardly know me. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I have a lot of information about what you have done. Have you not heard of my brother, Loki? Have you not heard of how I came to be acquainted with Midgard? We are not perfect, even here on Asgard. That does not mean we do not deserve love and friendship. Our antics have cemented your good nature in my mind, I would like it if you could be open to our becoming good friends.”

“I would like that Thor.”

“Well then, let us feast!” He boomed, leaving me shaking my head with a dopey smile on my face.

“What was that all about?” Steve asked, “Sam and Ember aren’t going to make it through the feast, they’re going to their room.”

“Probably for the best, I think someone slipped them something a lot stronger than what they were supposed to be drinking. I’m guessing Ember had something to do with it. I was caught not believing Thor’s pronouncement that _we_ are his ‘good friends’. He’s a good guy Steve.”

“He is.” Steve said softly, against my ear, as he nipped it.

“I’m starting to think ‘going to their room’ was a lead in for ‘we should go to our room.” I said as I pressed my cheek to his hair. “Wouldn’t that be rude?”

“No. We’re the reason they’re partying but they won’t stop if we leave. They might have some lurid suggestions as we go though.”

“Take notes, we might want to follow some.” I answered, grabbing his ass. “I’m so glad Thor did this and not Stark. I half worried you’d be in some Asgardian version of that stupid suit.”

“I thought you liked the suit. You instigated keeping it.”

“Longest played joke in history. You don’t think I’d pass up an opportunity to bust the balls of a newly buff and very droolable Ninety Day Wonder? Hell you weren’t even that experienced.”

“Oh Barnes, you son of a bitch.” He cursed, with a fond smile.

“Don’t dis my mama.” I responded with a pinch on the ass I still had a firm hand full of. “So which pretty maiden gave you your bath?”

“Jealous Barnes?”

“So it’s ‘Barnes’ is it? and you’re still ‘Rogers’?”

“It’s quick and effective.” He smirked. “Rogers-Barnes, thank you very much.”

“A hyphenate? You’re a fucking hyphenate?!” I teased.

“Quoting movies… on our wedding day. Tragic.”

“I couldn’t resist. I had to get it out before I said “and that’s Barnes-Rogers to you.” Otherwise it wouldn’t have worked.”

He tugged me close and wrapped his elbow around my neck, holding me as close as he could before kissing me. He lingered and nibbled, he licked, and I let him for a short time before I returned his passion, suckling his plump pink lip before plunging my tongue against his.

“We. Need. To. Go.” He said slowly, between bites and kisses. “Now.”

“You wanna say farewell?”

“No.” he growled, dragging me from the hall.

We got as far as around one corner, and into a darkened corridor, before he pinned me to the wall. I grabbed him and kissed him while he tugged my pants down over my ass. I wrapped my legs around his waist. His cock was free before I had a chance to liberate it. I sucked in a breath and bit his neck as he shoved into me, raw and physically unprepared. The bite just made him wild. He gripped my hips and held me against his thrusting. The wall of stone was grating my ass and my head kept knocking into it. I managed to wiggle my hips and arched my back.

Steve pulled my face up with his free hand and our eyes locked. He released my hip and I lifted away from him before slamming down again, hissing against the pain and the pleasure that warred through my shuddering body. My hard on rolled between my belly and his ample, muscular chest, the friction between my skin and the Asgardian material that covered his chest and arms was building the coming climax as fast as his thrusts were beating against my prostate.

His hums and grunts met my yelps before we swallowed each other’s cries in kisses. He thrust and shuddered beneath me just before I teased the tip of my own erection to bring my eventual release. When he stilled, he buried his head in the crook of my shoulder, hot breath dampening the fabric of the tunic I wore. I held his sweat slicked golden head to me, “I love you.” I said over and over.

He looked up, shoved his fingers through my hair, and kissed me roughly, “I love you. I can’t believe, after all we’ve endured, we’re finally…”

I kissed the tears as they fell, my legs still wrapped firmly around his tiny waist. “I know. It was shitty in the middle there, but we made it baby.”

“We should try to get to our room.” He sighed, putting his hands on my hips.

I dreaded the next moment, letting him slip from me almost felt so invasive. I cringed and tugged my pants up, making a note to carry a condom and lube for the next random, remote dalliance.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare. You’d better not be the slightest bit sorry. It’s just the – well – the mess.” I cringed. “I’m an adult, I can manage.”

“Oh,” he said briefly, looking down at his stained tunic. “Oh.”

“Yeah. “Oh”. Come on Cap, I’ll let you help me clean up.” I chuckled, “Damn, you blush pretty Stevie.”

“So I’ve heard.”

His reaction made the squishy, disgusting walk back to our room almost bearable.

.-.-.

“We haven’t left this bed in 36 hours.” Steve said conversationally, lying on his stomach between my legs, as he traced the cream across my chest with one of his fine, artist’s fingers. “Well, the room, I should say.”

“You got a flight to catch?” I asked, dotting his nose with a blob of the sweet whip.

“No. I guess it just won’t feel real until we’re home.” He answered, licking a strip clean before surging up to kiss me.

I held his cheeks in my hands, and comically licked the cream he’d gotten on his chin and the cream I’d put on his nose. He screwed up his face, “Dammit Barnes.”

“You’re right, it just hasn’t sunk in.” I grinned, “Barnes- _Rogers_ , Rogers.”

He got up and straddled my hips, holding my shoulders to the bed. He ground his ass against my cock as he trailed his hands down my whip cream covered chest. I took one hand and licked it from the heel of his palm to the tips of his fingers, tickling my tongue between each finger before sucking them into my mouth one at a time. He sat still, pressing his ass firmly against my hips, and put his head back, baring his throat and purring. I took the other hand and repeated my actions.

I took the bowl and painted the defined lines of his chest and abs with daubs of sweet, white cream. I watched as some plopped onto my belly, and replaced the fallen with fresh. He stayed kneeling over me, seated over my growing erection, rocking his hips ever so slightly. I sat up and licked the first daub that threatened to fall after I’d successfully painted each divot in his torso.

“Fuck me Bucky.” He cried quietly.

I took another two fingers of cream and smeared them over his erection, “patience baby doll.” I cooed as I wrapped my hand around him and eased him back. I licked the cream that was the first victim of gravity, from where it sat on my curled hand to the tip of his sensitive head. His hands came together in my hair “patience love” I repeated, teasing the slit with the tip of my tongue as punctuation.

I teased just a couple more touches before swallowing the sweet and salty tip and shaft. I moved my hand to his hip and tapped lightly, releasing his restrained rocking to a full thrust. I let him guide me by the fingers laced through my hair, licking and sucking the way I know he likes. I hadn’t ever gagged before but I almost did with his uncontrolled movements. I corrected pulling back slightly, and then rode his climax to the summit before pulling entirely away, and kissing him roughly, as he spilled over us both.

I watched him as he worked himself open, arching his back with his eyes closed in concentration and pleasure. “My pretty Stevie.” I said softly, licking the cream and sex from his belly, and laughing lovingly at his sporadic noises. “Make room for me babydoll.” I whispered before dipping my tongue into his navel, his cock brushing my chin.

“I’m ready?” He obviously meant it as a statement, but his aroused confusion had him asking. I touched his ass and trailed my finger past the dimples and down the cleft. I slipped two in next to his and he cried out “I’m ready, fuck me Bucky.”

“You are ready precious.” I said against his skin. “How do you want me?”

He scrambled to his hands and knees and I covered him, wrapping my hands around his chest, gripping his tits and flicking his nipples as he arched back, seeking my cock hungrily. With one hand, I tapped his tiny ass with it before teasing the tip against his hole and reaching for the magical Asgardian lube that felt slick and warm and smelled like ambrosia. I slicked myself and slipped my fingers inside him easily, tickling his prostate before nudging the tip alongside my cold metal fingers. His strained cry was drawn out, and hit soprano range, I kissed his shoulder blades as I pushed deeper. “OHh.. Oh Bucky. Fuck yeah.” He moaned as I removed my hand and pressed my hips clear to his ass. Seated fully, he pushed back against me before I moved. “Fuckin move Buck.” He demanded.

I nipped his skin before I straightened and pulled away and slammed back against him repeatedly. I crushed the mounds of his ass in my hands before gripping his hips to slow his erratic movements.

“You demanding little shit.” I hissed. “Touch yourself babydoll.”

He did, groaning and cooing as his rhythm and mine synced. His groans stammered from him as he curled his hips and I grazed his prostate. He tightened around me, “Touch me Buck. Hold me.”

I gripped his abs, smearing the remaining cream up along his torso to his pecs, he keened as I cupped my hands over them, abrading his pert nipples against my callused hand and the plates of my left hand. He came a second time, “Stevie, I’m gonna…” I panted pulling back.

“In me. Fuck Bucky, come inside me, I don’t want you to stop.” He pleaded, arching back against me. I thrust against his legs and shuddered and trembled as I came hard and fast.

“Oh God Stevie! Oh God you’re beautiful. Fuck Stevie!” I must have repeated dozens of times, as I came, after I came, when I collapsed over him and we just lay like that, not separating, for the longest time while I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Oh god Buck.” He said softly, “You’re the best, sweetheart.”

“You’re the best, babydoll.” I whispered against his ear. “Remember that.”

“I feel sticky and rubbery and amazing.” He slurred into the pillow.

“Let’s get cleaned up. We can take care of the sticky, and rehabilitate the rubbery and we can keep the amazing.”

“Tub sex kinda sucks.” He said tiredly.

“I said cleaned up, not fucked up. Come on babydoll. Let’s just work on the cleaned up part.” I nudged him, slipping from him felt cold.

He followed me to the elaborate bathroom and started filling the tub with hot water and some kind of bath oil that filled the air with a spicy aroma.

I got seated in the large round tub and put my arm up in invitation. He stretched and stepped into the tub, lowering himself to sit at my side. We lazily washed each other. He couldn’t seem to resist kneeling between my legs and rubbing against my chest, kissing my neck and front.

“Remember you said tub sex sucks.” I said, gripping his head and holding him to me when he placed an ear against my chest.

“I know. I’m about ready to pass out anyway, so no worries there. Can you believe we go home in the morning?”

“Can you believe we have more festivities when we get home?”

“Hmm… that’s right. More festivities. Something I forgot to consider…”

“What? Too much celebration?”

“No, which one will be our anniversary?”

“Both of them. You think I’m not going to be expecting a celebration on both of our anniversaries, you got another think comin’ Rogers.”

“Rogers- _Barnes_ , Barnes.”

“Ok. I’ll stop doing that if you do.” I said, ruffling his wet hair, “Deal?”

He surged up and kissed me hard on the very swollen, tender, overkissed, overfucked mouth. “Deal.”

We didn’t stay in the water much longer, the water wasn’t as nice as it had started out to be, now cream and sex tainted, and neither of us would want to be in the water if it cooled much more, so I rose, stepped out of the tub, and reached for the towels. He smashed the soft, heated towel to his face and breathed in. “everything here is so decadent.”

“Your friend is royalty.” I reminded him, drying off. “I feel kinda bad not being able to thank him properly. We didn’t think that part through.”

“He knew we’d be busy, obviously. Don’t worry Buck, it’s not like we won’t see him again. We’ll figure out a nice ‘thank you’.” He said, drying his clean, pink skin.

“You are beautiful. I know I said it before, but I really do mean it.”

“You’re being obtuse.” He said over his shoulder.

“Nope, just looking my fill.”

“You keep saying it and then I feel like I’m so unoriginal.”

“You are a true original babydoll.”

“I mean, Bucky, I want to say it to you. I always want to say it to you, but you’ve beat me to it.”

“You think _I_ ’m beautiful?” I dropped my towel. “Look at me. Scarred and broken, Stevie.”

“You know that’s not true. You’re not. You have scars, yes. You’ve had it rough, sure. But all I see is the beautiful boy I never expected to love me.”

I melted into his arms, both of us naked and smelling like an Asgardian autumn, if they have seasons, that is. “Oh god, Steve. I love you, I’ve loved you impossibly, forever.”

“I love you my beautiful boy.” He said into my ear, dotting my cheek and neck with kisses. “I’ve never not loved you.”


	31. Believe in Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of this and the companion Steve's Unsent Letters, on the same day? Thank you for keeping up with me, even when I was waiting for these two to cooperate! I can't believe this is it!

The return trip to Earth was much less traumatic on my body, as in I only swooned, didn’t nearly collapse, and puke. We were given a few days to recover from _inter-realm_ travel before being presented with tuxedos that somehow fit perfectly (did Stark measure us in our sleep at some point?), and were made from equally impossible fabric, much like the Asgardian togs we’d worn almost a week ago.

I’m informed that it’s Vicuña. Well, bless you and gesundheit. It did feel wonderful and fit like a second skin, everywhere it counts.

Watching Steve dress for the ten-thousandth time is as amazing as the first time. Back when we were young and much closer to innocent, before I thought I’d be flogged or go to hell for appreciating the beauty, I would watch him press his shirt and put it on, buttoning each button methodically. I would get lost in the bending and twisting of his fingers, they were so fine and long, even then. He’d smooth his hair but forget the pomade. He’d look in the mirror and frown, stepping up on his toes a few times and frown again.

Tonight, watching him was no less magical. His deft fingers skimming past each button, quickly getting them fastened. He smoothed the fine fabric of the shirt over his arms and looked in the mirror, smiling at me. “What?” he asked.

“I’ve watched you dress since before it was a sin. I’ve loved it every time. When I thought it was evil, I still stole glances at you. Underwear and a dress shirt, skinny legs and floppy hair.”

“Yeah?” he flushed, and smiled, “What about now?”

“Those pants fit you like a dream. You’ve figured out a haircut that you don’t have to plaster with anything to keep from getting unruly, and you’re as goddamned gorgeous as ever.”

“You’re planning on keeping me, I take it? You know you can still back out until Sam officiates.”

“Hell no. I’m already married. I’m doing _this_ to prove it to everyone else. I’d rather live by Asgardian laws anyway.” I said, kissing him quickly. “Help me with this tie, please?”

I stood by helplessly as he tied my tie and straightened it. He ran his hands across my shoulders and down my sleeves, “You look like a million bucks, Buck.”

“You didn’t think that one through, did you?” I laughed.

“I didn’t. What are the chances our sex-filled days in Asgard were fueled by the whiskey? Do you think we can make it through this celebration a little more responsibly?”

“I don’t know about the whiskey, but I think it was a long time coming.” I said without much thought, “I believe we’re good to make it through, we’ve been home for three days, and have been unwaveringly responsible.”

“I have something for you.”

“You’re either all over the place or you’re planning to fuck me right now.”

“Funny. Here.” He handed me an envelope. “I’m pretty sure it’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

“Well, you read it then. If I do, it’s sure to be bad news.”

“Nope, I’m not going to enable that kind of thinking. Open it Buck.”

I crushed the envelope in my fingers before taking a moment (or twelve) to calm down, “Ok, you’re always going to be like this, aren’t you?”

“You mean unerringly supportive? Yes.”

I ripped the envelope open, pulling the crumpled letter out. I handed him the envelope and opened the letter. I looked at the first line, really the salutation, for the longest time. I couldn’t get past the “Dear Mr. Barnes,” for fear of rejection.

“Well?” He asked, after giving ample time for me to read the entire letter, repeatedly. “What does it say?”

“Dear Mr. Barnes.” I replied, blankly.

“What do they have to tell “Mr. Barnes”?” he encouraged, “You have to get past that punctuation and get to the body of the letter.”

I looked away from my name, into his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can. This is our first phone call. It’s you telling me you love me, it’s our first date, you helping Ellie. This is the first breakdown you faced in our home, the night you stayed up reading, the days you put up with all the research I did. It’s remembering little things and big, it’s cooking and it’s making love. You did all of those things, you can do this. It’s the first step to me painting you surrounded by textbooks.”

“What if they rejected me?”

“You’ll apply to more colleges. You’ll make it work for you. You know it already says whatever it was gonna say. It won’t change if you or I read it. What matters, is that you get past the hurdle.”

I forced my gaze down the letter. “I’m in? Stevie, does this mean I’m in?”

He looked at the letter then, reading the body twice from what I could tell by tracking his eye movement. He looked at me with a huge grin. “It means you’re in. You’re a college student, Buck.”

“And you’re my artist boyfriend.” I laughed, kissing him “I’m in! I made it!” I tossed my arms around him, not caring about wrinkles in my bespoke tuxedo jacket or his shirt.

“Hold up…” he pulled back, with a stern face.

I stopped celebrating, my heart in my throat, “what?”

“You can’t call me your boyfriend. Not anymore.”

“Jesus, you gave me a heart attack. Husband. My artist _husband_.”

He laughed, “I’m so proud of you. You’ve got your work cut out for you now. Have you thought any more about volunteering at the center Stark is going to be dedicating next month?”

“Not up front where I can be seen, I’ll do some dirty work, behind the scenes, but I want to get some of my education under my belt and get a feel for everything before I go teaching people. I’ll even assist, but…”

“It’s enough, it’s more than enough. Don’t kid yourself, anything you put yourself out there to try something new, it’s a completely different place than where you were a few months ago.”

“We’re going to be late for our own wedding.”

“Like you said, It’s not like we’re not already married.” He said, pulling me closer. “I’m going to wrinkle this extravagant tuxedo, why he does these things, I just…”

“Steve, he cares, and he’s lonely, and it’s what he knows. It’ll get plenty wrinkled lying in a puddle on the floor later.”

We both laughed. “I guess you’re right, we should get going.” He said, lingering.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be the most sober in the room.”

“Again.” He teased, “Couldn’t even get it done on Asgard.”

“Well, I felt a buzz, but yeah, though it’s not as bad to be less drunk than _gods_ as it is to be less drunk than, oh, say Sam. I say Sam because Stark has years and years of tolerance built up.”

“We’ll probably hear a lot about the last time everyone saw us, and our disappearing with Thor.” He pulled his suit jacket over his broad shoulders, hiding the godlike shape of his body, “You think you can handle that level of bullshit Buck?”

“I can handle it. We know the truth. You will be taking that jacket off at some point tonight, right? The world deserves to look at you.”

“You want to ogle me Buck. You sure you want the _world_ doing it too?”

“Stevie, the world has been ogling you for a very long time, might as well give them the eye candy and enjoy it for myself at the same time.”

Steve’s phone chimed, which meant the car had arrived. I looked at the two of us in the mirror, smiled and put my hands on his shoulders, standing just behind him. “You look good enough to eat.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.

“You’re trying to make tonight impossible.” He smirked with a slow wink. I kissed the spot beneath his ear that’s ever so sensitive, and ticklish. He tipped his head to brush me away but his smirk grew to a grin. “Let’s get this party started.”

“I’m comin’ up, so you better get this party started….” I started singing and dancing against his back. He chuckled and doing so, he instigated my singing the whole damned song from the top of the stairs through the stairwell and out to the car. Gyrating against his fine bespoke ass before he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, in time to greet the driver.

* * *

“Capsicle and Robocop!” greeted warmly by a slightly inebriated Tony Stark as we entered the foyer of the building where we would legalize our union on Earth. “You’ve gone and gotten an Asgardian celebration but that’s nothing compared to a Stark shindig.”

“Tony.” I said, “Thank you for this.”

“Tony, you’ve gone above and beyond, I can’t thank you enough.” My usually under enthusiastic husband said with the warmth and kindness I’ve always known him to possess. “It’s beautiful.”

It was, the usual Stark boldness was still there, but it was _almost_ understated. The building shimmered with lights, the champagne flecked with gold gleaming through crystal flutes. Pepper brushed Steve with a kiss and stopped in front of me, “I hear you prefer to be called Bucky, I hope that’s correct?” She said kindly, “Pepper Potts, Bucky it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance before now. Thank you for all you did to help Steve with my case, and for everything you’re pouring into the Veterans’ project.” I took her offered hand and kissed her knuckles lightly. It might have been for show, Stark, I too can woo a beautiful woman. Or it might have been because I too can woo a beautiful woman.

She didn’t blush, but she did smile. “Thanks really do go to you for bringing the problem to Steve’s attention, and I hope I can convince you to volunteer.”

“Somebody put a bug in your ear.” I accused, glancing sideways at Steve, “I’d love to help on something low key, maybe work my way up to assisting in classes, but down the road maybe?”

“I’ve got a few ideas, maybe we can have coffee sometime, I want to check out this coffee shop you’ve introduced everyone to.”

“I’d like that.”

“Now, it’s my job to get you two where you need to go.” She put a hand on my shoulder and placed another over Steve’s arm, “Which means you need to let Steven go Tony.”

They’d been chatting about something, I’d heard their voices in conversation, but was happily chatting with Pepper so I tuned them to background noise. “Sorry Pep.” Tony almost looked apologetic. “It is their night after all…” he trailed off and caught someone I didn’t know up in a whole new conversation in the same breath.

“You’ll have to forgive Tony,” she started.

“Pepper? I know.” I assured her, “We’re acquainted.”

She laughed, “it doesn’t take long to figure it out, does it? Sam’s here waiting, I have paperwork ready to go. James – I’m sorry – Bucky, I have some extra paperwork for you.”

“Oh?” my heart was pounding, what could be waiting for me now, things were just starting to look up.

“Yes, I had them rerouted from your attorneys so you could have them before next week.” She handed me a packet of official documents. “Your army records, discharge papers, letters regarding back pay and documents you’re going to need to sign to get the money put into an account. Please tell me you’re going to put it into an account and not in a mattress like Tony keeps saying you will.”

“Of course, one of the first things I did was open an account. It makes my business, much easier to manage. Speaking of business, I’d like some advice regarding that. It can wait until after tonight. It seems I might owe some taxes from the past year.”

“I’d be happy to help, we can discuss that over coffee too.”

“Pepper? You’re not trying to steal my husband out from under my nose are you?” Steve spoke up, reminding us of his presence. Ok, you can’t _miss_ his _presence_.

“Never. I couldn’t if I tried; I’d rather not engage in futility.” She charmed him, leading us to where Sam waited. “Sam, I’m going to turn these two over to you. Where did Ember go?”

“She trailed behind one of the servers into the kitchen.” He said, he held up a hand when she started to say something, “I know! Don’t even say it, she’s bound to end up in the kitchen. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t have to drag this guy out of there before too long.”

“I’m off duty, Sam. No cooking, or baking. No kitchen for me.” I said as an oath.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I’m going to go see about extracting Ember from the kitchen. Sam, you’ve met the photographer? You’ll want to get this on camera.”

“Sure thing Pepper. I’ve got it under control.” Sam’s smile faded after she was gone, into an eye-roll.

“It’s like that huh?” I asked.

“I’ll be glad when she slows down and gets a couple of glasses of champagne in her.”

“Riding you hard, is she? Well, it’s sweet, she wants to make the day that much easier.” Steve said, slipping his arms around me. “What do we do to show things are going just fine.”

“Let the photographer and videographer capture your signing this for the next Smithsonian exhibit.”

“For what?!” I asked.

“I’m kidding." Sam answered with a mischievous grin. "For now.”

We were afforded the peace and quiet to sign the marriage certificate with just Sam and Ember, who came rushing over just before we took the pens from Sam, Steve and me, and the woman with a video camera and the photographer who would make me crazy by the end of the night following us around.

Ok, so he wasn’t _that_ much of a nuisance, but anyone that up in my business sets my teeth on edge.

The signing of the certificate was the last moment of peace we had. Oh, there was the reverent moment of exchanging vows, words that should make you shudder from their sappiness. Beyond that, there was only noise.

I don’t say that in a negative way, it was a beautiful night with lots of well-wishers. The problem with a Stark event is Stark people are invited, or hear of it and crash, and those who want to ‘ _see gay Captain America and his gay ex-(I hope he’s an ex)assassin husband’_ were the drunkest, and the loudest.

“Um, it’s _bisexual Captain America and his definitely-exassassin husband_ actually.” I finally said to the person I’d overheard say that exact thing.

The look I got was priceless, looks, plural. Tony went wide-eyed (oh shit what world leader did I offend) then he busted up laughing and tears streaming. Steve gave me an ‘I’m proud but trying to give you a warning look’ look. Ember winked and Sam rolled his eyes. The drunken not-a-world-leader-after-all looked shocked then confused, “whatever, it’s all gay.”

“Yeah, gay all day.” I said with a smile. “What’s a guy to do?”

My smile was forced, and I tugged Steve abruptly in the opposite direction. “I want to punch that guys face into next week.”

He sighed, then smiled, “You handled that shit very well Buck. Your personality is really shining tonight, let me know if it gets to be too much, huh?”

“I will. I’m a little warm, maybe a little close to the edge, can we escape outside for just a few?”

“As long as you want, and as long as we keep it mild.” He warned, “Photographer. Stalking our every move.”

“You noticed.”

“I couldn’t not. I know it’s going to be worth it. If Stark doesn’t beat the idea of selling the photos to the press out of this guy, Pepper will. I wouldn’t want to tangle with her.”

“So we don’t worry,” I said, “we’ll have hundreds of pictures to keep this memory safe.”

“Hey.” He said, “Buck?”

“What?” I know, it sounds so cliché, I blinked. I looked down before looking up into his eyes.

“Where’d you go?”

“Did I do it again?”

He nodded.

I’ve been so worried about losing memories, new ones, even though there hasn’t been a precedence for it, I’ve been concerned. I must have zoned out while I was worrying about forgetting the night, the annoyances and the wonderful, perfect things, and, “I’m sorry, I get a little swept away sometimes.”

“You usually just brush me off when I ask, but do you wanna tell me about it?”

“I don’t want to forget this. Not any of it, not even the guy who deserves my fist in his solar plexus. What if I forget?”

“I’ll remind you. If that doesn’t work, I’ll love you anyway, and I’ll be there for you.”

“You’ve thought of it?”

“No, the thought that you could lose new memories never crossed my mind. We did, just moments ago, promise to do that for each other. I took a vow Buck. You know my word is good.”

“You’re the most honorable guy out there. I know you will, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

"It won't Buck. You've been remembering more and more, not forgetting. Remember what Dr. P. says about letting fear get in the way." He ran a hand up my arm, cupping my neck.

"You're right. I'm not going to let those assholes win." I looked through the glass doors inside the sparkling room, “he sure does know how to throw a party.”

Steve laughed, “Yeah, he does. It’s really good of him, of all of them.” He watched the people he knows, dancing and laughing. He looked at me, “Clint and Nat look happy. Ember never _doesn’t_ look happy.”

“It’s a happy occasion. Can you believe all the good news today? I mean, my back pay, and college acceptance, all on our Earth Wedding day.”

“Buck, the best news of all is something you haven’t even considered.”

I’m not sure what my reaction looked like to him, I was confused. Obviously if it wasn’t one of those things, I hadn’t considered it.

He pulled out his phone and opened it to the camera, “One for us, private and not by a not-really-a-stalker photographer.” He smiled. I tilted my head and touched it to his. I looked at his image in the camera and not mine, and I smiled. He opened the photo, “Look, there it is, the best news of all. You _are happy._ ”

“Doesn’t make things perfect.”

“Nobody’s stuff is perfect Buck. This, what we have, it’s a lot better than it has been. We’re both a lot happier, a lot more often.”

“Ya got me there. Ok, fine.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he held me. “I _am_ happy sweetheart. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little extra - from [Steve's Unsent Letters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815275/chapters/18046801)


	32. And Another Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catch up with Steve and Bucky 5 years after their wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I was missing these guys, because they visited me.

Bucky sat cross-legged in the middle of his and Steve’s apartment. His books were strewn around him in circles. He jotted down this or highlighted that, before picking up another book. He was nearing the end of his final semester. He had taken summer courses because he’d lost time due to bad days, really good days, and often because he had taken off with Steve and Sam on multiple missions over the course of his college attendance.

“Steve?”

“Yeah Buck?” Steve looked up from his canvas. He had an exhibition coming up, he was showing his second series at MOMA, and he was on the last piece. Just starting the last piece.

“You wanna order from Ember’s? I’m not sure I’ll get away from this any time soon.”

“We can order, could you do it? I’m covered in paint, you know what I like.”

Bucky looked up, seeing Steve with his hair longer than usual, pulled back from his forehead with one of Bucky’s bandanas, covered, as he’d said, with paints. Blues and greens. He smiled and reached beyond his books for his phone and pushed the button “Call Em-Ber” he enunciated for the fickle device’s AI. “Why did we turn down Stark tech again?”

Steve laughed, “I’ll talk to him at the opening.”

“Hey sweetheart.” Bucky said as he heard Ember’s voice.

“Hey yourself, stranger. How are my boys?”

“Hungry. Funny, I thought once you and Sam had the twins, we wouldn’t be “your boys” anymore.”

“You’re always gonna be my boys.” Ember said softly, “Sam has _the boys_ today. They’ve been asking when they can play with their uncles.”

Bucky thought about the last time he’d taken time to play with Sam and Ember’s three year olds. “Soon. I’m almost done, and the MOMA thing – soon, I promise.”

“What can I get to soothe the hunger and sustain the artist and the scholar?”

“We’ll take today’s special. Can you send someone?”

“You got it. I’d bring it myself but I’d just interrupt your studies. You guys have deadlines. I’m holding you to the “soon” promise too.”

She ended the call and he went back over the notes he was writing while talking to her, scratching out errors.

“I was so lazy I didn’t even think about food, and I forgot to say ‘hi’ from you. She misses “her boys”.” Bucky said. He listened for a response, and didn’t even hear an “mm-hmm.” “Steve?”

“Yeah Buck?”

“We need a break. A vacation. Can we get away after your exhibit?”

Steve looked up at Bucky, really looking at his husband, “We deserve it. Yeah. We’re taking a vacation, wherever you want to go.”

“I want to go to Disneyland.” Bucky said from the middle of his book pile, his nose in one of them. He peered over the book to catch Steve’s gaze, “I want to spend time on the beach in the sun, and I want to go to Disneyland.”

“Ok. I’ll get it planned. I’ll call a travel agent.”

“No you won’t, you’ll be too busy. We’re both always too busy.”

“You’re saying you don’t believe I’ll remember. Ok, then what do you suggest?” Steve worked the paint into his design.

“I can make the call tomorrow between classes. Do you think Sam and Ember would bring the boys for a few days at the amusement park? I don’t mean we’d spend our whole time with them, but a couple of days should be enough for all of us.”

Steve put his paint brush down and crossed from the kitchen to the living room. He pushed some of Bucky’s books out of the way and knelt in front of him, putting paint-covered hands on either side of Bucky’s face. He pulled him in and kissed him. “I think that’s the best idea anyone’s ever had.”

“Get off me, you Goon.” Bucky shoved at Steve’s shoulder. “You’re covered in paint, you said so yourself. Look what you’ve done.”

Steve smiled and pulled Bucky close again, “Kiss me back Buck.”

Bucky gripped the back of Steve’s neck, digging his fingers into the muscle there and kissed Steve, tongue first, putting every ounce of longing and distance behind his assault. “Go finish your painting. You have to be ready. I have to pass this final.”

“I’ll be ready. You need any help with studying?”

“You wanna lend me your eidetic memory? If you could just memorize everything for me, let me use that and I promise to return it when I’m done.”

“I’m afraid that falls into scientific fiddling, you don’t want that. Is it just the usual?” Steve looked through the spread of books.

“It’s everything. This damned essay, I know I’m just having last minute jitters, but I’ve put so much into this.”

Steve sat back on his elbows, looking from Bucky to the painting over the sofa that depicted Bucky studying. Five years ago Steve had painted that, watching Bucky study, just like he had promised, and now Bucky was closing in on his BA History/MA Teaching Social Studies for grades 7-12 “You can do it Buck. The only thing that’s changed since you started is your confidence. This is just stress.”

“Yeah? I suppose. How’s your last piece coming along? Promise me, the next time one of us has something huge coming up, the other one won’t commit to something equally as big and important.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Steve smiled. “I promise, you’re going to get tired of seeing my face.”

“Hasn’t happened in 75 years.”

Steve chuckled, “You didn’t have to look at it full-time for that long.”

“True.” Bucky tossed his notebook at Steve, “read this, tell me which part sucks the least.”

“Is that how you’re going to talk to your students?”

“No, just you. Go on, read it.” Bucky yawned and scratched the back of his neck before picking up another book, in preparation for the next part of the essay. He didn’t realize he’d dozed until Steve’s hand on his right shoulder, solid and warm, nudged him out of the haze. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Food’s here. I like what you’ve written so far. There are some post-it notes with some questions. If you answer those, I think it’ll be clearer.”

Bucky stood up and stretched, following Steve and the bag to the barstools by the island. “What’s the special?”

“Pot pie, Berry cobbler, a side of whipped cream, and two hot coffees. She didn’t charge us.”

“How did I know _that_ was going to happen?”

“You don’t need a degree to know Ember.”

Bucky nodded, digging his plastic fork into his hot pot pie as soon as Steve set it in front of him, “You think any of my clothes will be acceptable for your opening?”

“Yeah, you have a couple of suits that would be suitable.” Steve couldn’t resist smiling at the stupid word play. “I’d say the blue would be nice. We could get something new, if you want?”

“No time right now, if things were different, I’d say maybe.” Bucky said as he continued eating the warm turkey potpie, “I agree, the blue will be sufficient.”

“Disneyland, where’d that come from?” Steve asked as he broke the crust into his pie.

“I’m not sure. I guess after talking to Ember for two minutes, missing you and missing the twins, I guess it’s the direction your mind moves when you’ve been subjected to advertising and kids. Plus, I want to go, you want to go, and I really want to soak up some sun.”

“You talk to Ember, see if she might have two extra minutes more than we do, see if she can arrange it. If not, I promise I’ll call the travel agent.”

…

The last time Steve exhibited at MOMA Bucky had made a mess of things, nobody but Steve and Bucky knew this, and Bucky was sure Steve would say that wasn’t the case at all. He’d had nightmares for the week leading up to it, terrible ones that made him physically ill. The one just the night before the opening night had him straddling Steve and pounding on him like a punching bag in their bed, until Steve threw him off from him and across the room. Bucky had broken the drywall when he’d landed.

They were both pretty bruised up when they met Sam and Ember for a celebratory brunch, from which Bucky had almost stayed home. They had passed it off as getting too carried away sparring, even if Bucky didn’t think Ember believed them. By the opening, there was only the tiniest cut on Steve’s lip and Bucky was still threatening to stay home.

Steve had thrown Bucky’s suit onto the bed, then his shirt and tie, before dragging Bucky reluctantly behind him into the bedroom. He had almost undressed Bucky entirely before Bucky shoved him away, “I can do it.” Steve sat on the foot of the bed watching Bucky dress and finally asked him what he thought the nightmares had to do with the exhibition.

“I think it’s that last piece you did, but like I told the doc, I don’t know why. He said we’d work it out, if the exhibition wasn’t the problem. Why would the exhibition be a problem?”

“It’s our first real public event, where you and I will both be in the limelight.”

“We’ve done the Stark fundraisers and shit.”

“Stark. Not Barnes-Rogers or Rogers-Barnes” Steve had prodded. “I don’t care, you can beat me up again, you wanna do it before we leave?”

“Get out or I’ll take you up on it.” Bucky was gruff but he smiled. That night had been fine after all, and his nightmares gave him a rest.

This opening was going to be better. Bucky’s sleep had gone undisturbed, with the exception of the usual, non-threatening anxiety dreams. One night of waking up with cold sweats was completely to be blamed on Bucky’s graduation. There were also just a couple of nights that Steve didn’t get home until late because of some problem or other with displays. Not that the professionals at _the MOMA_ couldn’t handle the display problems, but Bucky understood Steve’s need to be hands on with something so crucial.

Steve wanted Bucky to let him be as over the top with his graduation as Bucky was being with the opening, but Bucky didn’t want a graduation party, “I graduated, take me to dinner. Your opening night will be enough of a _shindig_ for the next five years.” So Steve had taken him to dinner at a very nice, very expensive restaurant, and had danced with him in their apartment before making love into the morning.

That was five days ago, and now, he was watching Bucky create tiny cookie versions that represented his art. It was an idea that he and Ember had cooked up over drinks. They were going to be part of the gift bags, and Steve wanted to argue. Bucky had been so stressed with his finals and not seeing Steve properly, and now over a hundred cookies, hand decorated? Looking at his husband, he could only see bliss. His hair was pulled back off his neck, having been allowed to grow long again in the last year and a half, he was smiling, when his tongue wasn’t sticking out while focusing on the tiny paintbrush details he and Ember were adding to the white and colorful mini replicas. Bucky was very _zen_ right now.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Hmm?” Bucky said, not looking up from the tiny, edible painting.

“You have any that maybe didn’t turn out so well? I wouldn’t mind sampling one.”

Bucky finished the details he added with the black food paint before looking up, smiling tenderly at Steve. He passed the cookie to Ember for gold details, “Come on into the kitchen, look what we’ve done. I’ll find a sample.”

Steve stepped carefully past Ember, not wanting to jostle her as she copied details from a photo of one of the five pieces that were the exhibition’s highlight. Bucky’s arms slid around his waist and he gripped Bucky tightly, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. “What’s this?”

“You look stressed.” Bucky answered with a grin, pulling away to look Steve in the eye. “Not about me, I hope?”

“I was worried you’d taken on too much.” Steve admitted. “It seems the opposite is true. How many more?”

“We’re on the last dozen. Once the color hardens, we can wrap them. Ember brought some cellophane bags that should fit perfectly. You said you wanted a sample?” Bucky handed Steve a plate with six misshapen cookies. “They’re broken and they’re just iced with the white, but they taste great.”

“You have icing on your…” Steve scrubbed at a spot on Bucky’s cheek, and then straight up licked it off. “Never mind.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Bucky shoved Steve away and ran his sleeve over the spot before pulling Steve back by the t-shirt. “You ready for tonight?”

Steve let Bucky kiss him and smooth his hands over his chest. He put his free hand on Bucky’s neck, still holding the cookie plate. When Bucky angled to look at Steve, he smiled, “Nervous.”

“Go soak in the tub, warm and fragrant water will help. Stay in there as long as the water’s hot. Take your cookies.”

“Ember, do you hear this?” Steve smiled before kissing Bucky’s smiling lips. “He’s bossy. I blame you.”

“Ok.” Ember muttered. Steve had heard that mumble before, when she was busy and Sam sent one of the twins to get her flustered. Unlike the toddlers, he knew when to back off.

Bucky firmly pushed Steve toward the bathroom, following far enough to grab some soft towels, and Steve’s bathrobe. “I have a surprise for after your bath.”

The tone was business, not pleasure, so Steve debated teasing the pleasure angle before giving in, “I’ll bet you do.”

“Have I told you how glad I am you never decided to become a comedian?” Bucky asked as he pulled the door closed.

He heard Steve laughing as he returned to the kitchen. “Hey, those look great.” He smiled at Ember. “Thank you for following through on this. I know you’ve been busy.”

“I had as much to do with the idea as you did, I would be a terrible person if I said, “you know, you’re on your own”.” Ember looked up smiling at Bucky, “They really do look amazing. Did you ever think we couldn’t do it?”

“Hell yeah. Steve’s the artist. I can manage a little, I’m so glad you’re also artistically inclined.”

“Otherwise we’d be eating a lot of cookies.”

“Twelve dozen. The kids would end up with some, and then you’d be in trouble.”

“You know who would be in trouble? Uncle Bucky, that’s who, I wouldn’t be giving them cookies. Speaking of which, where’d the extras go?”

“You weren’t paying any attention. I sent the plate with Steve.” Bucky grinned at the shocked look on Ember’s face, “Don’t worry, I saved us each one. We’ve been dipping into the dough and the frosting, I figured one was enough.”

“You? You took a sugar break?” She teased as she tested one of the first cookies to see if the color was set. “We should be able to start wrapping these in a bit. By the time we get to these that we just finished, hopefully they’ll be ready. The fan was a good idea.”

“I have two degrees, I can have a good idea.”

“You can have good ideas about degrees, and you know all about cold.” Ember teased.

“You’re ruthless.” Bucky put an arm around her, “I know why I kept you, but why does Wilson put up with you?”

“For even better reasons.” Ember giggled, “I sure hope he gets the kids wrangled in time go get cleaned up. He has way too much fun with those kids.”

“You might have to make a mom call somewhere in the middle of wrapping cookies.” Bucky settled into the barstool across from Ember, and started bagging cookies.

“What did you do with Steve?”

“I sent him to the bath, he should be finishing up by the time his surprise shows up.”

“You ordered the massage therapist?”

“You know I did. He’s used to action, these things get him wound up, and he has no release. He’s getting another in the morning.”

“I thought you were the release.” Ember said as she reached for the next cookie.

“Ok, you _know_ what I meant.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Ember, do you realize I wouldn’t be here without you pushing me? I have a pretty cool family and I owe it to you.”

“You’re damned right you do. I’m the one who pushed you to tell _him_. That’s where my pushiness started.”

“Do I not thank you enough? I know there’s no way to thank you enough.” Bucky stacked cookies on their edges in the box Ember was going to deliver to the swag bag people.

“You are fine. Besides, you brought me Sam. I think we’re squared up.”

“Yeah? Good.” Bucky and Ember continued to package, humming and singing along to the stereo, until the doorbell signaled the massage therapist.

“I’ll get it, you should go check on him anyway.” Ember said, walking past Bucky with her hand across his back. “You’re doing the couple’s massage in the morning, right?”

“You saying I’m carrying my stress in my shoulders?”

“Are you?”

“Hard work. Same thing, I guess. Yeah, I sorta splurged, figuring he’d appreciate it. I can call it my graduation gift or some nonsense.” Bucky pushed up from the barstool and went into the bathroom.

Steve could be asleep for as relaxed as he looked, stretched out in the tub full of pale pink, vanilla scented water. Bucky approached with caution, “Stevie?” he asked softly before touching Steve’s solid bicep.

“Yeah?”

“So not asleep then?” Bucky smiled when Steve’s eyes met his. “You about finished? I have a little something waiting for you.”

“You could bring it in here.” Steve waved a hand over the bath.

“We don’t have time for that, I still have cookies to wrap.”

“OK, I’m done.” Steve sat up, “hand me that towel?”

Bucky picked up the fluffy towel and bent over to kiss Steve before handing it to him, “Don’t dawdle.”

“You’re the one holding out for kisses.” Steve grinned, pulling the towel from behind Bucky’s back. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Bucky backed out, smiling as he watched Steve emerge from the bath, pink droplets trickling over his skin. “Make sure you do.”

After closing the door, Bucky escorted the massage therapist into the bedroom, “whatever you need to make him comfortable.” He said, “did you want me to close the window?”

“No, that’s ok, I think it’ll be nice to have the breeze. Unless, of course Mr. Rogers want’s it closed.”

‘Rogers-Barnes’ Bucky thought happily, not that they put their hyphenated names on reservations like this. “Ok, hey, there he is. Stevie, relax and let Ms. Levi take care of you.”

“Shoshana, please. Mr. Rogers, if you would lie on the table, do you have any allergies? Any music preferences?”

“It’s Steve, Shoshana, I’m happy to meet you. You,” Steve pointed at Bucky, “have a lot of explaining to do later.”

“Yeah, I’ll ‘splain in the car.” Bucky grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Relax and enjoy.”

…

Steve looked around the event, things had gone smoothly, and he had so many people to thank for that, and none more than Bucky. He couldn’t find his husband just now, but he’d been spotted last laughing with Natasha. Steve remembered that moment because he’d missed Bucky’s laugh recently and hearing it ringing across the room had made him happy. Also, because damn, Buck looked better in the blue suit than Steve had remembered. They had both lost a bit of weight over the past months, working more, and eating less, Bucky baking less, so all of the lines of the suit were immaculate.

He heard the laugh again, joyous, and turned to find the source. Bucky was giggling with Ember and Sharon. They’d become close as Peggy’s health had failed. Sharon was probably trying to find out if they’d decided on a surrogate yet. She’d offered to be the one to give them a child when they were ready, even though Steve thought it would put a crimp in her career. “Of course it won’t, I’ll have to ride the desk for a while, but it would be worth it Steve.”

The discussion of children came up between Steve and Bucky on the second birthday of Sam and Ember’s twins. “I think I’m ready Steve. I think, we’re ready to be parents.” Bucky said as he stood, rocking the sleepy toddler.

“Really? I mean,” Steve had mixed emotions, yes he was excited, but he was nervous too, afraid that their missions would leave their child orphaned. “of course you’re ready, look at you.”

Bucky had smiled, “but? If it’s the same argument, what did you tell Sam and Ember?”

Their discussion had reeled in Sam, Ember, Natasha, and Sharon, reassuring him that if there were kids involved, not only would they be cared for, neither he nor Bucky would be sent on the same missions. Bucky had said he’d give up the “Indiana Jones life” and just be a teacher and a dad. A week later, Sharon approached Bucky and Steve her offer.

Bucky had been talking about it again just after Christmas, and they hadn’t had a chance to look into things. One late night pillow talk had led to “We can’t just go screening people when we have someone like Sharon offering. We know her, her history, family, and she’s perfect Steve. If you wanted to, you could even do it the old fashioned way.”

“and you’d watch?” Steve teased. “Seriously, what if I want our child to be your child?”

“How about this? We both submit, and whatever happens, we’re happy.”

“You just wanna do it the old fashioned way with a Carter woman.” Steve had grumbled, not at all upset.

“That’s not a bad idea, but no, I was teasing. It would be easier and more reliable to do it with the help of science. I mean, it’s the best thing science could do for us Stevie.”

So when Sharon and Bucky spotted him watching them, they both smiled, and Steve knew their topic of conversation.

“What are you two smiling about?” Steve asked as he reached the trio. “I don’t really have to ask, do I?”

“Sharon was giving me a list of places to explore while we’re in California.” Bucky smirked. He leaned into Steve as Steve’s hand crept across the small of his back.

“Bucky was telling me we should all get together after your trip.” Sharon added, “I’d say it sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah, I think you’re both right.” Steve nodded, watching Ember’s reactions. The arch of her brow and quirk of her lips told him he was on the right track. “So, how do you guys think the evening’s going? Please tell me the truth.”

“Look around Stevie. Everyone’s soaking up your sunshine.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. Ember? Back me up here.”

“Steve, the event’s a success, and your work, the lighting, everything is perfect. Everybody is really saying good things. I even heard people talking actively about getting hands on your art. Have you seen Sam? He disappeared.”

“Yeah, he’s outside, Tony has him engaged in some talk about the wings.”

“You mean his latest design? The tech on that new pack is amazing Steve. I don’t know how you can discount…” Steve stopped Bucky’s nerd outbreak with a kiss.

“I know, it’s amazing, but maybe Ember wants to rescue Sam, you know how Tony can lose track of time when he’s involved in science and technology.”

“Pepper needs to kiss him more.” Ember said with a smile as she started to head for the door. “Worked for you.”

“Yeah, I know my strengths.” Steve laughed. “So, we’re really gonna do this?”

“Bucky told me you’d talked a little more. I have time off; we can consult a specialist and see about getting things started once you get back. That way, if you change your mind after spending a few days in an amusement park with two three year olds, you’ll be able to do so free and clear.”

“We’re not going to be changing our minds.” Steve reassured both Bucky and Sharon, “But waiting is a good idea. Thank you Sharon, I…”

Sharon put her hand on Steve’s arm, “I’m happy to do it. No child would be more loved.”

“Sometimes I think we should adopt, but then the idea of sharing the whole experience with someone who is involved willingly, from the start…”

“Steve, first, people will say what they’ll say. Second, don’t worry about what they’re going to say. You can always adopt later. This is something you both want. Don’t let _Captain America_ ’s branding dictate how you desire to expand your family.”

“She’s right, Steve.” Natasha said from behind him. “Your first obligation is to your family. Not some public statement.”

“Thank you for coming.” Steve put his arms around Nat, “I know I’ve seen you in passing, thanks for being patient with me.”

“You’ve been very busy, this is even more successful than your last. You’re going places Rogers.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll be an artist when I grow up. Thanks Nat.”

“You’re going to make the celebrity exit right? Disappear and have people asking after you when you’re gone?”

“Is that a thing?” Steve looked skeptical.

“Oh it’s a thing.” Sharon grinned, “Right Bucky?”

“It is? Of course, if you two worldly women say so, it must be.” Bucky smiled, “and that’s all the motivation I need to steal my husband.”

“I need to say…”

“You need to say nothing.” Natasha said, steering Steve toward the door. “You need to disappear, Sharon and I will take care of the rest.”

Outside, waiting for their car, Steve faced Bucky, “You did this.”

“Nope. I swear Stevie. You talked to everyone, your job is done, I love that Natasha is so incisive.”

“Ok, so we go home.” Steve’s arms slowly slipped down Bucky’s sides and around his waist. He pulled him close, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I planned this around your finals and graduation.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bucky smiled, bringing his hand to cup Steve’s head. He ruffled his soft recently shorn hair, “I’m so proud of you. You finally got back to your art, the chance to flaunt your talents is worth every minute we were too busy, I would have been busy anyway, and at least you weren’t bored.”

Steve stepped back when the car arrived, “No, not bored.”

Bucky waited for Steve to be seated before sliding in next to him. He was pulled in for a desperate kiss as soon as he had the door closed. “Frisky.” He chuckled into Steve’s mouth.

“We’re gonna have a family Buck,” Steve laughed, “can you believe it?”

“Is this _my Steve_? The cautious, “I donno Buck” Steve?” Bucky brushed kisses along the corner of Steve’s mouth, “You’re ready? Honestly?”

“Yeah, I know I’ve been cautious,”

“You’ve been smart. I was in school, working on two degrees. No way would bringing baby anxiety into it have been the right choice.”

“I just never wanted you to think I had any doubts about you as a parent. I…”

“I know.” Bucky silenced him with a kiss. “You’ve always been my biggest cheerleader. Before school, during, I know baby.”

Steve ducked his head under Bucky’s fingers as he ruffled his hair and caressed his neck. “I’m really excited. I wish we hadn’t agreed to wait.”

“You can call Sharon.” Bucky chuckled, “But we’re leaving soon enough, and we’ll have so much fun while we’re gone, that it won’t feel like waiting.”

“Thank you for pampering me today, and for making a gross of cookies, painting them. You’re crazy.”

“I know. Don’t have another big event for a while ok? You liked the massage?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled.

“Good, we’re having a couple’s massage tomorrow. In the living room, probably.”

“I think I’m gonna like that too. Speaking of rooms, are you ready to give up your room for the baby’s room?”

Bucky nuzzled Steve’s clean-shaven jaw, kissing his neck with a smile, “Yeah, I studied in there exactly three times, I slept in there practically as many. It hasn’t really been _my room_ since the beginning.”

“I remember your room before that. I’m still impressed with how cozy you made it.”

“I’d like to think – if I had to move into a place – I’d do better now.”

“You trying to tell me something?” Steve asked, Bucky could feel Steve’s muscles creating a smile. Steve twined his fingers into Bucky’s hair possessively.

“Of course not. Well, yeah, I’m in a better place, that’s what I was saying.” Bucky ran his hand down Steve’s chest, slipping his fingers between the buttons. “You smell delicious, like vanilla and whiskey.”

“Yeah, bath scents and, well, whiskey. You taste like champagne and strawberries.”

“Not sure which I had more of, to be honest.” Bucky admitted, pressing his lips to the spot on Steve’s chest that he’d exposed by unbuttoning the top buttons.

“Buck.” Steve’s voice was breathy and his hold on Bucky’s hair tightened as Bucky worked his way down each button, unsheathing the pearl button and then kissing the exposed skin. Once Steve’s shirt was open enough, Bucky took one nipple between his teeth, and twirled his fingers around the other, making soft sucking noises and little groans of pleasure. His left hand plunged down the front of Steve’s suit trousers, gripping his husband’s aroused cock skillfully.

“Stevie, how long have you been keeping this secret?” Bucky asked, his lips never leaving Steve’s skin.

Steve’s breath hitched and he released a strained laugh, as Bucky’s long strokes became short, quick pumps. Bucky chuckled, blowing his hot breath across Steve’s chest when Steve’s hips kicked forward. He kept manipulating Steve’s cock, twisting his nipple a little roughly, as he slid from the seat of the town car, to his knees on the floor and covered Steve’s cock with his mouth. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes from Bucky’s face, from his lips, slick and red from kissing, stretched over Steve’s arousal, to his eyes, dark and locked with Steve’s. He watched as Bucky pulled away and pressed back, bobbing, twisting and making magic happen with his tongue on Steve’s sensitive skin.

Steve watched as he came into Bucky’s throat, urgent, hot, and wet, and Bucky lapped up anything that escaped, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Steve took Bucky’s hand and kissed the back of his hand, licking his own sex from his husband’s skin. “Kiss me.” He ordered. Bucky obliged, kneeling and stretching between Steve’s legs, his chest pressed against Steve’s cock. Steve lowered his lips to meet Bucky’s and devoured his mouth. Bucky expanded his chest, rubbing his pecs along Steve’s still hard cock, “You want me to do something about this?”

“God yes.” Steve moaned, looking at his watch. An hour if traffic was good. Yeah, he wanted it.

Bucky sat on the seat next to Steve, slowly gliding the zipper down, and tugged his pants over his ass as he moved to seat himself on Steve’s lap, “Awkward lap dance anyone? Full penetration.”

Steve giggled as he gripped Bucky’s hips and held tight as Bucky slowly, lazily, and very carefully lowered himself onto Steve’s turgid cock. It was hell, the patience he had to exert, but he imagined Bucky’s discomfort, unprepped and dry, but for the remnants of his first orgasm, and it made the agony of waiting tolerable.

Bucky winced and breathed deep breaths, taking his time, but he playfully wiggled and looked back at Steve with a little smile, “Shoulda come prepared, though you were a boy scout.”

“You ok?” Steve asked, concern etched in the furrow of his brow.

Bucky eased further, sticking his tongue out at Steve and grinning, “I’m better than ok Stevie. A little help?”

Steve lifted his hips, pressing deeper, while kneading Bucky’s cheeks playfully. Bucky rocked against Steve, closer and closer to filled. His breathing was getting more uncontrolled, and his cautious progression was bringing Steve closer to his second climax, helping in the smallest way as Bucky was finally seated and filled. He rocked his hips against Steve’s, milking more from his husband before attempting to move more aggressively.

“You ok Stevie?” Bucky laughed when Steve moaned and cursed.

Steve banded his arm around Bucky’s waist thrusting into him relentlessly, chuckling as Bucky’s sighs became grunts. “Fuck Bucky, you have the prettiest ass.”

“I beg do dif – aah – OW – fuck – I beg to differ, yours is much prettier.” Bucky breathed through the blissful pain of the raw fuck. “You going for a marathon Stevie? You wanna come sometime in the current century? I don’t guarantee we got another one.”

Steve’s free hand wrapped around Bucky’s chest, pulling him back against him, and he started kissing and biting Bucky’s neck, slamming into him until he shuddered and stilled, thrusting disconnectedly as he finally came. “Happy now?” he said through the mouthful of sinew at Bucky’s throat, “pretty, pretty Bucky.”

“Somebody’s full of himself.”

“You’re the one that’s full of me. You like it. You wanna ride me home Buck?”

“I love it when you say stupid shit.” Bucky laughed.

“I could pull out now.”

“No. No, that’s not necessary.” Bucky kissed Steve over his shoulder, “You got more to give Stevie? Or are we just cuddling here.”

“Give me a minute or two.” Steve lifted Bucky’s hair from his neck and kissed along his hairline, his warm breath tickling Bucky’s neck. “Maybe ten. Can we stay like this for ten minutes?”

“I think we’ve done it longer. God I love you Stevie.”

“I love you too Buck.” Steve’s hands moved up Bucky’s sides to cup his pecs, he pressed his callused palms against Bucky’s firm nipples, and the silk of his shirt was hardly a barrier.

Bucky arched to the touch, stirring Steve’s cock with the action. Bucky unbuttoned his shirt and put Steve’s hands on his naked chest, moaning and needy.

Steve played with Bucky’s nipples, envisioning them getting pinker, “can you face me?”

Bucky barely heard the soft question, but he did hear it and he pulled off, turning around to straddle Steve’s lap.

“I needed to look at you.” Steve grinned, taking Bucky’s cock in one hand, sliding his thumb over the tip, his nail grazing the slit, “You want more baby?”

“I said I could ride you all the way home, Stevie.” Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, ruffling his hair as he lowered himself onto Steve’s fresh arousal. “You got enough stamina to get us all the way home?”

Steve thrust into Bucky, stroking him lazily. “I’ll try.” He grunted, “I don’t know how to be patient.”

“Think of it as an op.” Bucky grinned, looking into Steve’s eyes, “Fuck you’re hard.”

“Fuck you’re tight. I love how tight you are.”

“I think it’s that monster cock you have there.” Bucky teased, nipping Steve’s bottom lip before aggressively kissing him. Steve laughed into the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, the wet slide of tongues against one another making Bucky giggle.

“What?” Steve stopped to look at Bucky, still fucking him vigorously.

“Uh – fuck – you’re relentless. God I love it. Never stop.”

“You getting your money’s worth Barnes?” Steve was still stroking Bucky’s cock with long, lazy strokes, feeling the pre-come as it dripped over his fingers.

“I’ll owe you change baby.” Bucky teased. “You can blow me when we’re done.”

They teased and laughed, and fooled around until they got home, hurriedly zipping and buttoning before getting out of the car with pink cheeks, both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more to come, from the boys' vacation, it's playing out right now, so... soon.


End file.
